


Courting Disaster

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Found Family, Humor, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Secret Identity, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25706164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Jason must have felt his heated gaze because a cocky smirk appeared. “See somethin’ you like?”“Maybe. I could use some convincing.” Tim knew what that look meant and arched his back, showing off his own lean frame and pouted.“Jesus Christ. That’s it. I’m outta here. Call if you need me.”The comm chimed slightly as Kon switched it off.The smirk grew as Jason started working on his belt. “Then let’s see what I can do about that.”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 347
Kudos: 640





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zappedbysnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappedbysnow/gifts).



> A very happy birthday to my dear friend snowzapped! I hope this one ticks all the boxes!

The open window of Tim’s hotel room let in more than a desperately needed breeze to combat the dry heat. It also told him just how close the _policia_ were and that he really needed to pack faster. 

How the hell was he supposed to know another hit had been executed right after his own? On the bright side, the two leaders of warring drug cartels were dead. 

But his ass was on the line since the second-in-commands ordered the local police to apprehend any solo tourists for questioning. 

Tim was already pissed he’d had to abandon the sniper rifle he used for the hit. The scope on it was excellent. 

_“Keep moving, Tim,_ ” Kon’s voice came over the comm. _“Bart has a satellite trained on your position. They’re almost there.”_

“I’ve got ears,” he replied somewhat testily. “What I need is a clear escape route.” 

_“We’re working on it. Pack faster.”_

This was why Tim liked working with a team. They had his back even when they were several thousand miles away. Kon was the communications specialist, while Bart had his fingers in so many pies it was hard to keep track of just what he was up to at any given time. That was Cassie’s job. 

And him? Well, he was their field agent, the Wraith who did all the dirty work. Tim wasn’t ashamed to admit that something broke in him a long time ago, making it that much easier to pull the trigger. Despite his mentor’s proclivities toward using swords, he preferred long range weapons, even if he wasn’t tied to a particular one.

The pounding of boots racing down the hall outside the hotel room door had Tim looking up, calculating. The shouts from outside were louder, but not quite there yet, so this had to be— 

His door was yanked open by a tall, muscular man who all but fell in, closing it hard behind him, dropping a duffle not unlike his own to the floor. He was breathing heavily, clearly having run some distance in this cursed heat. Sweat poured down his brow and dampened his simple white t-shirt. 

“What the…?” 

Eyes met his and the man’s mouth fell open. “Shit. I thought this room was empty.” 

Tim was just glad the gun he still had was already in the duffle bag he was in the midst of repacking. Not exactly something to leave out in plain sight. Not here. 

“You traveling alone too?” he asked instead, because this was exactly the kind of question you asked a complete stranger who happened to appear in your hotel room. 

The man nodded. “I’m not sure what happened out there, but they’re takin’ in anyone who’s wandering around by themselves.” 

As the man spoke, a wave of nostalgia hit Tim. His accent was pure Gotham, a city he’d long since abandoned in favor of San Francisco. For that reason alone, he should be suspicious, because nothing good ever came out of Gotham, but at the same time, that was the attitude of someone who’d never lived there—a stranger on the outside looking in. Despite the years between the last time he’d stepped foot in that city and now, he was already prepared to offer help to this complete stranger. 

“I have an idea.” 

In his ear, Kon groaned. _“Tim. No.”_

The shouting from outside the window grew louder and a woman downstairs screamed as the thudding sound of heavily booted feet pounded the hardwood floor. 

He was out of time. 

“Come here,” Tim ordered, pulling the duffle off the bed and reaching for his shirt. “Just play along.” 

The man’s eyes widened as he ripped off his shirt and started unbuckling his shorts. But he got with the program quickly, kicking off his own shoes and yanking his shirt over his head, leaving them in a trail across the floor as he approached the bed Tim arranged himself across. 

Heavily muscled arms caged him in as the man leaned over, draping his body over Tim’s to press their clothed groins together. He exuded heat that spoke to hours outside. Now it was time to make it look like it came from something else. 

“You okay?” the man asked, his breath smelling of the clove cigarillos sold at the bar next door.

“Never better.” Tim reached to tangle his fingers in the man’s black hair and tugged on it hard. “Now kiss me and make it look real.” 

Through the comm, Kon groaned again. _“I don’t get paid enough to listen to this. Tim, don’t you dare.”_

The man grinned. “I’m Jason.” 

“Tim.” 

Then words were lost as Jason closed the gap between them, stealing both Tim’s mouth and his breath away. 

Damn, but did he know how to kiss. Barely seconds in and Tim was already losing himself under the onslaught. In an attempt to regroup, he repositioned his legs, dragging one up and over the man’s denim clad hip. 

All too quickly, he realized he still had his shoes on. Shit. 

He managed to kick one of them off, sending it flying to fuck knew where, when the door to the room slammed open to shouts of “¡Abre la puerta!” 

_Policia_ poured into the room but stopped short at the sight of two half-naked men making out on the room’s only bed. 

Playing his part, Jason jerked back like he’d been tazed, eyes widening almost comically at the interruption. “Uh…” 

The leading officer’s jaw dropped before he collected himself. Quick wits, that one, and Tim let his left hand fall to the bed, fingers questing for the duffle that he’d strategically placed within reach and the gun hidden within. 

“No está solo.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Tim shook his head, trying to keep his face as open and innocent as possible. “I checked in by myself yesterday, but my boyfriend just arrived today. We’re together.” 

Another officer frowned and raised his gun, but the leading officer didn’t move. “No hablamos inglés.” 

Jason raised his hands, keeping them clear and visible as he sat up, still bracketing Tim’s thighs with his own. “Estamos juntos. Llegué hoy, pero mi novio ha estado aquí desde ayer.” 

Nice. Tim’s opinion of the man rose infinitesimally. He spoke Spanish, but not well enough to get a reply out that smoothly. This was why he didn’t take assignments in Mexico very often. Jason’s reply might have sounded like it came from Google Translate, but it was a far sight better than anything he’d have been able to come up with on his own. 

“¿No vas a viajar solo?” the officer asked, and Jason shook his head. 

“Solo para llegar aquí. Acabo de llegar en el último autobús.” 

Something about the last bus. Tim quietly groaned as the conversation went over his head. 

_“He said he traveled alone to get here,”_ Kon translated, his voice barely loud enough to be heard. _“That he arrived on the last bus.”_

This was why Kon wasn’t only his handler, but also his best friend. The big lug might appear utterly brainless, but he spoke Spanish like a champ. 

Jason and the police exchanged a few more words before they retreated, closing the door behind them. 

Tim expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That was close,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Thanks for helping me out.” 

“Hey, you saved my ass too, so the feelin’s mutual.” Jason ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. The action drew Tim’s attention to the finely chiseled muscles that defined Jason’s torso. Now here was a man he wouldn’t mind spending some time to get to know better. 

Jason must have felt his heated gaze because a cocky smirk appeared. “See somethin’ you like?”

“Maybe. I could use some convincing.” Tim knew what that look meant and arched his back, showing off his own lean frame and pouted. He’d been told more than once that it made him look so very fuckable and after an experience like that, he was more than ready to get laid. 

_“Jesus Christ. That’s it. I’m outta here. Call if you need me.”_ The comm chimed slightly as Kon switched it off.

The smirk grew as Jason started working on his belt. “Then let’s see what I can do about that.”

* * *

The answer was a lot. 

Tim didn’t dare leave town too soon, not now that the _policia_ were watching him. But Jason played the part of his boyfriend well. Above and beyond even, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this well fucked. 

And the feeling apparently was mutual since Jason couldn’t keep his hands off him either. They’d christened nearly every inch of the hotel room, making an absolute wreck of the bed to the point that Jason took the sheets down to the laundry himself. 

They ate at a little café across the street from the hotel, got drunk together on some really shit tequila at the bar that sold those cigarillos Tim was slowly becoming addicted to. Or rather, how they tasted on the back of Jason’s tongue when he explored the depths of the man’s mouth. 

One evening, it even rained while they were out, tapping down the ever-present dust and leaving them soaked to the bone. 

Jason looked even more stunning with his untamable hair plastered against his head, his simple white undershirt nearly transparent as the rain fell around them. 

Tim blew him in the narrow space between the bar and the hotel, then, once they’d stumbled back upstairs laughing all the while, fucked him in their room. 

He was absolutely beautiful with a cock buried in his ass, so much so that Tim wondered what his thoughts were on nude photography. The play on light and shadow across the planes of his body, the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin—he snapped the pictures with his memory, all the while cursing he didn’t have the talent to replicate them on paper. 

Despite the amount of time they spent having sex, they also talked. 

“Yeah, I’m from Gotham,” Jason admitted the first night, idly tracing the lines of Tim’s back. “How’d you know?” 

“Because I was born there.” Tim cast a soft glance over his shoulder. “Left when I was sixteen and haven’t looked back.” 

That was a lie. His parents had died when he was twelve, leaving him to the oh so tender mercies of Ra’s al Ghul. It still hurt, not knowing if they’d done it on purpose or if he’d taken the opportunity to snatch him up the moment they were gone. He was pretty sure the old bastard had killed them, but he’d long ago resigned himself to never solving that particular mystery. Ra’s would spin a tale to suit his needs and no one else’s. 

Jason chuckled. “I can hear it now that I know what to look for. Just a trace.” 

“I worked hard to get rid of it.” His accent, while nowhere near as rough around the edges as Jason’s, was a hindrance as far as he was concerned. It was a reminder of the past. _His_ past, which was best left forgotten. 

“Why?” 

Tim shrugged, not at all surprised that the other man went there. “Too many memories and not all of them good.” 

“At least you got out.” Jason shifted, reaching for his jeans to draw a pack of cigarillos from a pocket. “Gotham’s had her claws in me since the moment I was conceived and hasn’t let go since.” His statement was punctuated with the flick of a lighter and the brief flash of light illuminating his face. 

“Poetic.” 

“Realist.” 

They spent hours discussing everything and nothing. Jason was an orphan too, a product of Gotham’s streets who’d managed to get lucky and be placed with a good foster family. That common thread revealed more about him than he probably expected, but Tim didn’t say anything, moving on instead to other topics. 

Shared interests abounded, as did a tendency for travel and exploring local cuisines. While both enjoyed reading, Jason had a passion for it, as evidenced by the novels he often toted around when they ventured out. 

Tim supposed that made up for the fact he owned a cat. 

“Antigone?” he repeated, pausing with his fork almost comically held before his lips. “Isn’t that kind of…?” 

“Dramatic? Over-the-top? Tragic?” Jason smirked, then slung back a shot of tequila. His intention to get drunk had been made clearer than clear at the start of the meal.

“All the above?” 

“She hates everyone who isn’t me and I swear to God, she sheds on my suits just because she can. I have to keep a lint roller in every single room of my apartment.” 

“I think I’ll keep my betta fish.” Tim thought back to Skye and hoped Bart was remembering to feed him. “At least he doesn’t shed.” 

“Allergic?” Jason asked knowingly. 

He nodded. “Not horribly so, but enough.” 

“What about a dog?” 

“In San Francisco?” Tim laughed and stuck his fork in his mouth, savoring the smokiness of the shredded pork before replying. “As much as I’d love a dog, I work too much and am gone just often enough that they’d spend more time in doggy day care than with me.” 

Jason liked to talk, even during sex, which Tim found rather adorable. It wasn’t just to hear himself speak either—more like he knew time was short and was trying to pack in what he could. 

He didn’t mind. 

“So what brought you out here in the first place?” Jason asked the second night, slowly thrusting in and out of Tim’s pliant body. 

“Needed to get away,” he replied, raising his arms up to grasp the metal frame of the headboard. “I’ve got a map of the world in my office. Took a dart and just randomly threw it.” 

The lie slid easily off his tongue, well-practiced from years of use. A guy his age with a case of wanderlust and an income to support it? It didn’t raise questions often. 

Jason pressed a kiss to his collarbone, lapping one side of it with his tongue, then the other as he kept up his slow and steady pace that was driving Tim utterly insane. Each thrust filled him in ways he didn’t think possible, hitting deep within the recesses of his body. 

“I guess I’m lucky it didn’t land somewhere in the Pacific.” 

“Very.” Tim clamped his knees over Jason’s hips and bucked upward, disturbing the rhythm. “You’ll be even luckier if you go faster.”

* * *

All in all, he was satisfied with the outcome of this assignment. His target was dead, he came out in one piece, and he’d spent nearly five days in bed with one of the most good-looking men he’d ever seen. 

Definitely a win. 

Amusingly, they were on the same flight back to the States. The full flight meant they couldn’t rearrange their seat assignments, but they both had a layover in Houston that would give them a chance to sit and share a final cup of coffee before going their separate ways. 

The end of that flight was sheer hell. Tim was convinced the pilots must have balls of steel or were utterly insane. The turbulence and weather outside were such that if he’d known how bad it would be, he’d have changed flights. 

Therapy had done wonders for many of his issues but flying during a storm was one that would never leave him, no matter how many years had passed. 

Upon landing, he wanted to fall to the ground and worship it. Maybe sacrifice a goat or something to the sky gods. 

When the flight attendant made the announcement that the airport was grounding flights for the next couple of hours, it came as no surprise. At the gate, people were already lining up, bombarding the airline attendant with questions about rebooking flights. 

“I can get you on another flight to San Francisco in the morning,” the clearly exhausted woman said when it came time for Tim’s turn to explore his options. 

Jason stood behind him, a solid presence that soothed still frazzled nerves. It was rather fortuitous they were both using the same airline for the respective last leg of their journey. 

“What time?” 

“9:05.” 

“I’ll take it.” 

Tim waited while Jason was rebooked on a flight that left only half an hour after his. 

“So,” he said as they walked toward baggage claim together. “What are your plans for the night?” 

“Dinner, a hot shower, and a beer.” Jason quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “You?” 

“Same.” 

“Wanna share a room?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Dinner was at a low-key sushi restaurant they found across the street from the hotel Tim managed to find a room at. The food was excellent, and they argued the merits of Sapporo versus Kirin before finishing with a small bottle of cold sake that went down oh so smooth. 

The hotel room wasn’t anything special, but it had a king size bed and a walk-in shower, which was a damn sight better than what they’d had in that small Mexican town, where the bathroom was communal and down the hall. 

They were stripped bare in moments, crowding each other to get the best advantage of the warm spray. 

“You do realize we’re just going to get dirty all over again, right?” Tim asked, washing Jason’s back. Soapy fingers trailed lower and lower, until he couldn’t help himself anymore and cupped Jason’s ass, jiggling it slightly. 

“I plan on it. Now, are you gonna finish cleaning me up back there or do I need to do it myself?” 

Tim smacked the rounded muscle this time. “Don’t rush me. I’ll make sure you’re nice and clean.” 

“The way you say that makes it sound so dirty.” 

Licking his lips, Tim slipped soaped up fingers along the inside of Jason’s crack, teasing the puckered ring of muscle he fully intended to work open with his tongue. “Do you want to be?” 

“Fuck, yeah.”

* * *

In the morning, Tim woke up to Jason’s lips wrapped around his cock. It was a familiar feeling now, something the other man said helped calm the urge for a morning cigarette. 

He definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Dragging his hand through Jason’s tousled hair, Tim hummed in pleasure. “I am going to miss this.” He really was. He’d already said good-bye yesterday to the slow and gentle morning sex and now here he was, having to do it all over again. 

Jason’s hand momentarily replaced his mouth. “Same. There’s just something about sucking your dick that I can’t get enough of.” 

“Such a damn shame we’re on opposite sides of the country.” 

A wet mouth sucked the tip of Tim’s cock before popping off. “Long distance booty calls?” 

“Probably.” Tim slid his hand to the back of Jason’s head and pressed down. “Suck now, talk later.” 

* * *

They exchanged phone numbers over coffee in the terminal, waiting for Tim’s boarding call. Outside, the sun shone bright and clear, as opposite as could be from the tumultuous night before. 

“You know, I still can’t believe this happened,” Jason said, cracking a wry smile. “I mean, it’s like something out of a rom-com.” 

“No arguments there.” Tim took a sip from his too-hot coffee and made a face. It tasted like crap, but he needed the boost. Neither of them slept much the night before, not that they did the previous night either. “I would like to keep in touch though, random booty calls aside.” 

Jason nodded. “Same. I can’t think of another person I’ve ever hit it off with so fast before.” 

“Well, getting hunted down by the Mexican police and pretending to be in a relationship to get away is definitely a bonding experience not many people share.” 

The way Jason laughed, so loud and brilliant, Tim wanted to just wrap himself up in it like a comfy blanket. “You can say that again.”

Before he could reply, the overhead speaker made a pre-boarding announcement for his flight. Sighing, he caught Jason’s eye. “I guess this is it.” 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Jason stood, shouldering his own carry-on as Tim did the same. “I had a lot of fun.” 

“Me too.” He smiled and offered his hand. “I’m definitely down for a round two.” 

“I think we’re up to round twenty now, but yeah.” Jason grinned as he clasped Tim’s hand and shook it firmly. “Don’t be a stranger.” 

“Likewise.” 

Tim paused long enough to take one last look at the man who completely blew his mind, embedding that crooked smile in his memory, and walked away.

* * *

This flight was uneventful enough that Tim slept through most of it. The nap managed to both refresh him and remind him that he needed some serious sleep. He dozed lightly on the BART as he made his way into the city. 

The high-rise loft he called home was in the heart of downtown, stupidly overpriced, and ultra-modern. But the view could not be beat and, as he set his bags down, he glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows and took in the sun shining across San Francisco Bay. 

He was home. 

Shame he couldn’t kick back and enjoy it because he still had to make an appearance in the office and deliver his mission report.

His highly edited mission report. No one there needed to know quite how much sex he’d had over the last week. 

Of course, when he walked into his team’s office an hour later, freshly showered and changed from the flight, they all did anyway because Kon was an asshole who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

Tim gaped. “What the fuck?” 

Cassie and Bart snickered while Kon tried to maintain his innocence. “Did you forget to turn off your comm, dude? Seriously, I know more about what you sound like when you come than I ever wanted to.” 

The urge to smash his face into the conference table was strong. “I thought you turned it off. I remember you turning it off.” 

Kon rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… I just thought I’d check in and see how you were doing, considering how close you were to getting caught by the police and all.” 

Leaning on an elbow while grinning furiously, Cassie winked. “I’d say something _caught_ him.” 

“A _big_ something,” Bart added. “So tell us, Tim. Just how many times did you get laid in the name of keeping your cover?” 

This time, Tim’s face did make friends with the conference table. It was a damn sight better than looking at each and every grinning jerk seated around him. “I hate you all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder--this AU is _inspired by_ Mr. & Mrs. Smith. It deviates rather sharply although there are definite elements that will be recognized.

To say that Jason wasn’t looking forward to getting home was an understatement. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could just crash in his apartment for several hours before eventually hauling his ass to the manor for a debrief. But no. Bruce didn’t give him the chance and sent Alfred to the airport with a car.

Fucker.

“I trust your journey was uneventful, aside from the storm delay?” the old butler asked.

Jason flashed back to Tim eating him out in the shower last night. Uneventful was not a word he’d used to describe this particular mission. Fucking awesome was more suitable. “Yeah, it was good. I even made a friend.”

“Mister Timothy?” Alfred caught his eye through the rear-view mirror. Nothing got past the former spymaster, despite his penchant for acting the part of a proper British butler. “His name came up during several of your check-ins.”

“He saved my ass and my cover.” That was putting it mildly. “If he hadn’t done what he did, Bruce would have had to send Dickie in to haul me out. And that’s assuming the cartel didn’t shoot me on the spot.”

To be fair, he really did think Tim’s room had been empty when he barged in there looking for a place to hide. Everything had been going so well, right up until the leader of the rival cartel had up and died too. A double hit, who could have predicted that? Jason’s escape plan went all to hell, as well as the secondary one.

But Tim, beautiful, smart, sexy-as-fuck Tim, decided to help a complete stranger by yanking him into bed. Which, to be fair, helped his ass too because a single tourist, and a man at that, was an instant suspect.

“Then we should be grateful for his quick thinking,” Alfred replied. “We’re all very curious as to why you decided to return on a commercial flight rather than meet with Master Dick for extraction.”

Jason was under no illusion that Bruce wasn’t listening in on their conversation. The old bat was a control freak and knew he’d be more open with Alfred than he would with him.

“Had to keep up the cover I created,” he answered, honestly in his opinion. “Tim’s some kind of tech guru out of California who gets these random travel bugs and goes to the oddest places. I ended up with a similar story because it was easier to just play along.”

He was rather proud of it, even if it did have more truth to it than he liked. An employee at Wayne Enterprises, one who worked in R&D thanks to an engineering degree and a knack for reverse-engineering tech. Which, to be fair, he did all of that. But there was only one person between him and Bruce on the WE food chain. He might prefer tinkering around in a lab, but his master’s in finance ensured no one thought his placement was pure nepotism.

“Thanks for getting me on the same flight out as him,” Jason added. “Or was that Babs?”

“That was Miss Barbara,” Alfred stated. “She had to do some backend work to show you were there legally in the first place.”

“I’ll make her dinner some night here soon.” Jason stretched, arching his back against the confines of the seatbelt. “So, what did I miss on this end? Damian claim Tig as abandoned property yet?”

* * *

It was a week before he decided to message Tim. Settling back into his usual routine after a mission always took about that long, just needing the time to get his head back on straight. In this case, he especially needed it because so many of his spare thoughts were spent on a sharp-featured man whose tongue, while more than capable of delivering some witty zingers, also managed to drive him insane.

After a shower to wash away the cares of the day, Jason collapsed onto his couch, and picked up his phone. It was just after 7 p.m., which meant it was 4 along the Pacific coast. Too early for what he had in mind.

Antigone prowled along the back of the couch, her fluffy white tail whipping into his face.

“I fed you, princess. The vet says you’re overweight, so if you want more food, try sucking up to Damian.”

His brat of a younger brother was obsessed with Tig and frequently tried to woo her affections away with cans of tuna and other treats. It never worked, but it didn’t stop him each time Jason roped him into pet-sitting while he was away.

The cat  _ meowed _ and settled in behind his head, tail curling under his chin.

“This whole time zone thing sucks.” Jason flung his phone onto another cushion and picked up the TV remote. Maybe some porn would be enough to satisfy the craving that’d been eating at him all day.

* * *

It didn’t.

After an hour, he was harder than fuck, hadn’t come, and frustrated as hell. It didn’t matter that he’d even adjusted his search parameters for men who looked like Tim, he just could  _ not _ get off.

Goddammit.

Jason picked up his phone and tapped in a message.

_ J: Hey. _

Brilliant. Just what kind of text was that after a week of utter radio silence? Might as well start with  _ I really miss your mouth _ and sound like the complete loser he was.

Sexting. Seriously, he was turning into Dick.

The phone chimed a moment later.

_ T: Hey! How’ve you been? _ __

_ J: Pretty good. Just settling back into the swing of things. You? _ __

_ T: Same.  _ There was a pause, then another message came in right after.  _ This is going to sound sappy as hell, but I miss you. _

_ J: Been thinking about you too. Especially tonight. _ __

_ T: Trying to get off? _

The reply was blunter than expected and Jason marveled again at the gem he’d stumbled upon.

_ J: Before I do something stupid like take a picture of my dick, do you want to actually talk or keep going like this? _

_ T: If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. Then we’ll talk. _

Jason groaned as he lowered his phone to stare down at his aching cock. The head was shiny with all the pre-come he’d leaked. He’d never taken a picture like this before, but if he was gonna do it, he’d do it right.

Lurching to his feet, he made his way down the hall and into the guest bathroom. It was times like these that he enjoyed being a Wayne heir and the extra space that entailed. He frowned in the mirror, adjusting his dark red briefs so that the waistband sat firmly beneath his sac. His cock didn’t need any help and proudly jutted upward from a nest of wiry dark hair.

Tim had waxed poetic once, deep in his tequila, about wanting to take pictures of him. Something about light and shadow and wanting to play with what he called his  _ tiddies _ .

In the mirror, he drew his shoulders back, sharpening the line of his pectorals, and held up his phone.

The picture didn’t look too bad and before he could overanalyze it, he sent it to Tim.

_ J: Thirsty yet? _ __

Tim’s response was just long enough in coming that Jason wondered if he’d overdone it.

_ T: For you? Always. _

It came with a picture of Tim standing before a full-length mirror, naked, hard, and with a challenging look in his eyes. In the background, once Jason could think again, was a large bed with a dark blue comforter spread haphazardly across it.

Tim was at home. In his bedroom.

Jason’s breath caught and before he could stop himself, he tapped the phone screen to start a call.

It answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” Tim said, out of breath in a way that Jason knew all too well.

“Hi.” He spun on his heel and returned to the living room. “I didn’t think you’d be home this early.”

“I make my own hours.”

“Good to know.” Jason sat back down on the couch, switching the phone to speaker, and palmed his dick. “Thought this might be easier with two hands than one.”

“Works for me.” There was a long pause where Tim moaned quietly. “I’ve never done this before.”

Just hearing the quiet admission made him harder. Or maybe it was Tim’s breathy voice, which was a thought he shoved aside to examine a quarter next to never. “Me neither.”

“I want your mouth.”

“I want your tongue.”

“I want your mouth wrapped around my cock sucking my brains out.” Each word was punctuated with a sharp intake of breath.

It was easy to imagine what he was doing.

Jason gripped his cock tighter and thrust into it. “I want you on your knees in front of me, choking on my dick while I fuck your throat.”

Tim moaned, drawn out and long, and there was no mistaking the fact he’d just found his release. It was a punch in the gut, shoving Jason back down into a wellspring of memories where that same sound echoed around him as he fucked relentlessly into Tim’s body while the man shattered to pieces.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Jason jerked himself to completion, gasping in air as he made a complete mess on his stomach.

“Good?” Tim asked once his breathing regulated into something approaching normal again.

“Yeah.” Jason sighed and dragged his clean hand through his hair. “I think I prefer the real thing though.”

* * *

“So.” Stephanie started, plopping down completely uninvited in the office chair on the other side of Jason’s desk. “I hear you have a sex life now.”

Jason glared over the rim of his reading glasses. How did she always manage to corner him like this? He had a meeting with his department heads in half an hour and was already running on fumes after staying up way too late the night before talking with Tim. It’d been a common theme for the last month. As much as they tried to keep the phone sex to the weekends, it rarely failed that one of them—usually him—would get that itch midweek and then pay for it the next day.

“Having a sex life implies I have a life, which, as you’ve told me many times before, I don’t.”

“Since you’re not leaving your apartment, you still don’t.” Steph paused and took a sip from the mocha-frappa whatever she typically ordered from the coffeeshop in the lobby. “But you’ve been disgustingly happy lately, so that leads me to believe you’ve been talking to what’s-his-name…Tim? The guy who saved your ass by taking you to bed.”

There were times when he really hated his fucking family.

“What I do in my spare time is none of your business, Blondie.”

Steph pursed her lips and glared. “I’m your partner, Jason. I think that means I deserve to know.”

He hated when she played that card. More often than not, Bruce paired the two of them together when he sent Jason out into the field. Stephanie was smart, quick on her feet, and had turned more than one head with a flash of her dazzling smile, giving him the time and distraction needed to get the job done. She was the perfect counterpoint to his more direct approach. If she hadn’t had that damn cold when the case in Mexico came to a head, she’d have been there on the ground with him.

And then he’d have never met Tim.

Feeling a headache brewing, Jason opened his desk drawer for the pill bottle he kept well-stocked for just such an occasion.

“Whaddya want to know?”

* * *

Jason crossed his arms loosely over his chest, reading the mission parameters on the main monitor in the cave beneath Wayne Manor. For years, this place was the epicenter of Bruce’s quest, his mission, to make the world a better place, one carefully planned case of espionage after another. And the occasional assassination, which was where he came in.

The Red Hood was able to lay claim to being one of the greatest assassins in the world.

At least in his opinion. Cass would be the best, if she killed anymore. No one paid attention to Ra’s or his League, and his bullshit about building a utopia upon the corpses of humankind, with himself conveniently placed as the ruler over the survivors.

Fucker had some delusions of grandeur, that was for sure.

“Why Jacksonville of all places?” he asked, curious about the location more than anything. He’d long since given up trying to understand why Bruce chose the people he did. They were never good people, that much he knew, so he focused instead on the smaller things that actually mattered.

“Umberto Pascal is arriving in Miami, then is heading up the coast for a meeting with an unknown party.” Bruce frowned, clearly displeased about the unknown factor. “This is a recon mission only. I want to know  _ who _ he’s meeting with. That alone should reveal the reason why.”

Jason scoffed. “The fact that Pascal is coming out of Columbia at all means he’s either branching out or bringing someone in.” He sure hoped he wouldn’t be sent after him. Bogotá was a nice city and all, but the fucker he’d be after worked out of the south, closer to the Amazon rainforest.

What could he say? He liked his comforts and mosquitos the size of his hand did not rank anywhere on his list of a good time.

* * *

“So I’ll be in Jacksonville for some boring ass conference next week,” he told Tim a few nights later after they both came their brains out. Their dirty talk game was improving.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you…” Jason swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Do you want to meet up?”

There was a long pause, then “Send me the dates and I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

Sometimes, Jason couldn’t believe how easy his job was. With a little help from Babs, the all-seeing, all-knowing Oracle, he’d managed to book the hotel room right above where Pascal’s meeting was being held. It even had a balcony, which he was taking gross advantage of.

“This is stupid,” he murmured, knowing his comm picked up the comment anyway. In front of him was a small monitor, showing him everything the drone was seeing. Not that it revealed much with the heavy curtain closed.

_ “No kidding,” _ Stephanie replied.  _ “If I’d known your trip would be this easy, I would have come with to work on my tan.” _

Jason maneuvered the miniature drone a little closer to the base of the balcony beneath him, landing it behind one of the posts. He still hadn’t gotten an image from inside thanks to the curtains, but he was getting all the audio Bruce could ever want and then some. He’d leave it to the big guy to filter out the waves from the ocean below. A storm was brewing.

“You are not crashing my weekend,” he stated firmly, making an adjustment to counter the gust of wind.

_ “I have no intention of getting in the way of your booty call, Hood for brains.” _

“Good.”

_ “I still want all the juicy details when you get home.” _

“I’m not telling you shit.” He still hadn’t forgiven her for barging into his office and interrogating the living daylights out of him. “Wouldn’t you rather have a souvenir?”

_ “Your idea of presents are magnets or shot glasses.” _

“Hey, nothing says vacation like a  _ Welcome to Jacksonville! _ magnet.”

* * *

The following afternoon, Jason paced circles around his actual hotel room, several floors up from the one Pascal vacated earlier this morning on his way back to Miami. He was a nervous wreck.

Tim would be here soon. Tim, who he hadn’t seen in nearly three months and still had phone sex with at least twice a week. Tim, who hated flying during storms.

Not for the first time, Jason wondered if he should have offered to pick him up from the airport.

The wind gusted again, sending a fresh wall of water against the closed doors of the balcony. To be fair, the rain hadn’t been this heavy until about twenty minutes ago and Tim’s flight had landed a good half hour before that. Still, it had to be a bumpy flight in.

Maybe he should go down to the lobby. Or perhaps—

There was a knock on the door.

He did not race to answer it. No, he most certainly did not.

Because he wasn’t stupid, he peered through the small peephole first before unbolting the door. The chain snagged and he cursed, fumbling with it. And, because he was just one smooth operator, Jason flung the door back so hard it bounced off the wall and slammed into his shoulder.

“Fuck.”

“Gee, this seems familiar.” Tim grinned, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners.

Jason’s heart raced at the sight. Christ, had he missed him. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“You going to let me in? I know it’s Florida and all, but rain is cold even if the temperature outside says otherwise.”

Blinking, he stepped aside as he realized he’d been staring. “Sorry. It’s just…”

Tim closed and bolted the door behind him, smiling that crooked little half-smile that never failed to weaken Jason’s knees. Then, quicker than a flash, he hurled his rain-soaked self into Jason’s arms.

“Hi,” the man said, his smile morphing into a grin.

“Hi,” Jason replied, trying and failing to readjust his grip to be anywhere else but on Tim’s ass.

“I’m cold.” Tim shivered for good measure and pressed more firmly against him. There was no mistaking his intent.

“Want me to warm you up?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

“Jesus fucking Christ, I missed this.” Jason closed his mouth over Tim’s cock again, unable to get enough of the heft or the taste.

Around him, Tim spread his knees even wider, a clear invitation of what he wanted next. “Before I met you, I was perfectly content to have sex with another person maybe a few times a year. Use my hand and toys the rest of the time.”

Jason hummed at the thought of Tim fucking himself with a dildo. Pulling off was the last thing he wanted to do, but the statement deserved an answer. “Same. Look what you started. Turned me into some kind of ravenous sex fiend.”

“What I started?” Tim gave him an innocent look that belied the devilish smirk beneath. “You’re the one who nearly kicked my door down.”

“But you’re the one who took your shirt off first.” Jason licked a swath down the length of Tim’s cock, making his way over his balls and further back.

Tim hissed and bucked his hips. “Will you just shut up and fuck me already?”

“You already got off once in the shower.” Because that was the fastest way to warm up a cold Timmy, soaping up his leanly muscled body so that every inch was squeaky clean-—inside and out.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for? Directions?”

Jason stopped what he was doing and drew himself up and over Tim’s body, bracketing him between his arms. “Bossy.”

“I just flew three thousand miles to see you. Now fuck me.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Jason stood on the beach, bare feet buried in the wet sand as the waves lapped around his ankles, watching the sky lighten. The storm had fizzled out during the night, leaving behind clouds that turned pink and gold as the sun rose. Tim was a few feet further out, kneeling to get a better angle with a camera he wielded with obvious ease.

They’d been up all night and while the bed definitely called their names, neither of them wanted to waste a moment sleeping more than they had to. Two nights was all Tim had managed to snag. They both flew out Sunday afternoon.

“How long have you been doing photography?” he asked. He felt like he should remember this, but it was buried somewhere in his memory under a bottle of tequila.

“Since I was about nine.” Tim lowered the camera and made an adjustment before raising it again. “My first camera belonged to my dad. He caught me messing with it and showed me how to use it instead of yelling.”

Right, Tim was an orphan. His parents died, killed in a plane crash during a storm, which explained his nerves. Before that, he’d traveled the world with them, exploring one exotic locale after another. Amazing how being the son of rich parents didn’t mean jack shit in the greater scheme of things.

“My dad would have just yelled, then yanked it out of my hands to go and pawn for some beer money,” Jason offered, shoving aside thoughts of Willis. That bastard had no place in the here and now. 

“Is that why you don’t drink beer?” Tim asked, casting a glance over his shoulder before turning his attention back on the sunrise. “Or American beer, that is?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, unnerved by how that keen insight was already picking up on subtle nuances only his family ever clued in on. “Unless it’s an import or some kind of craft beer, I won’t touch it.”

Unless a mission came up where he had to and even then, most of it ended up on the floor. Or in some fucker’s face.

Tim nodded, then rocked back on his heels, lowering his camera. “I think I got all the shots I wanted.” He turned and offered that small smile of his. “Want to get some breakfast and mess up our sheets some more?”

“How can I say no to a classy invite like that?”

* * *

“So, how’d it go?” Dick asked, handing over Antigone’s carrier as soon as Jason opened the apartment door. That he was here instead of Damian meant only one thing.

Blondie had spilled the beans about how he’d spent his weekend. Fucking bitch. See if she got her magnet now.

“Fine,” he replied, accepting the spoiled princess that walked all over him.

“Just fine?” his brother quirked a brow, a move they all stole from Alfred, and leaned against the doorframe.

“What’re you fishin’ for, Dick-for-brains?”

Dick’s grin had a bloodthirsty edge to it. “I heard you met up with Tim again.”

Jason glared and wished he dared shoot his older brother. “Who I sleep with is none of your business.”

“It is when they fly across the country to meet you  _ when you’re on a mission. _ ” Dick took a step forward and closed the door behind him. “Seriously, Jason—”

“Don’t start,” he snapped. “Besides, Tim didn’t even arrive until  _ after _ Pascal left. The mission was  _ over. _ ”

“What would have happened if the parameters changed? Bring him along with you?”

“I can’t believe you think I’d be dumb enough to do that.” Jason dropped Tig’s carrier and the cat hissed her displeasure even as he knelt to open it. She bolted, probably to go shed all over his suits. “If things changed, then guess what? There’s this lovely excuse called  _ family emergency _ I can wave around.”

“And Tim would have bought it?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He has no reason to believe that I’m anyone other than who I say I am. Unlike a certain  _ Nightwing _ that’s had his cover blown fuck knows how many times because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.” Jason narrowed his eyes as Dick tried to backpedal. “Yeah, nice try, fucker. You’re not the only one people like to tell stories to.”

Dick sighed and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I just—I heard what you were doing, and it reminded me of how I was before Bruce put me on permanent pilot duty. I don’t want to see you fuck up like I did.”

Jason’s gaze dropped to Dick’s left knee, the one that had been replaced after a bullet tore through it and fucked it up beyond all repair. Even with the best medical technology Bruce’s money could pay for, he still walked with a slight limp. “I thought that was the reason you were pulled off active duty.”

“The person who shot me? I’d been sleeping with them. I knew she was trouble and thought I could handle it.”

“Tim’s not like that. Not like us.” Jason searched for the right words. “He’s a normal guy with normal hobbies and has the extra money to chase after them.”

“Does he make you happy?” The look in Dick’s eyes spoke to how much he wanted to hear an answer other than the one that was about to come out of Jason’s mouth.

“Yeah. He does.”


	3. Chapter 3

Down in the cave, Jason stood over Bruce’s shoulder and listened as he outlined his mission parameters, gesturing periodically at the monitor as he spoke. This was different from most of his assignments. While recon was a regular part of his routine, observing a hit in action was not. 

Bruce pushed back from the computer bank. “Questions?” 

He had a bunch but knew already that the old bat wouldn’t answer most of them. “Who do you think was hired to go after Traarbach?” 

“I have a few educated guesses.” 

“I’m sure you do.” Jason rolled his eyes at the clear reticence to share. “So spill the damned beans because the more I know, the better prepared I can be in case I actually run into them.” 

Bruce’s usual frown tightened, but for once, he complied. The first two names were small fry that didn’t warrant this kind of attention. 

But the third… “You think Wraith might be on this one?” Jason let out a low whistle. 

Wraith was a legend. Literally. Ra’s talked out his ass more often than not, but he’d always claimed the assassin known as the Wraith was one of his. The best of the best from the League of Shadows, his own personal hit squad. But that’s all it was—rumors. 

“I do,” Bruce replied. “Which is why this is _strictly_ observation only. The other two I know how to find, but Wraith…” he trailed off and glanced up at the monitor. “Wraith is a wild card.” 

Jason smirked. “And we all know how you feel about those. Control freak.” 

“Perhaps.” Bruce caught his eye again. “Just be careful. I know you’re going to squeeze in a trip to see Tim during this case. Do not forget your priorities here, Jason.” 

“Let’s see. A chance to get laid or an opportunity to watch one of the world’s best assassins in action?” Jason scoffed, knowing it would rile the other man up. “I know which I’d choose any day of the week.” 

Bruce sighed. “The sad thing is, I don’t. You and Tim have been seeing each other for what? Nearly a year now?” 

“Slightly less, but yeah.” He could see where his dad was going with this. “Look, B. I don’t know what Tim and I are, okay? We’re friends, that much I can say. If you want me to be really blunt, we’re friends who like to fuck each other’s brains out anytime we’re remotely close to each other.” 

The pained look on Bruce’s face spoke volumes about his thoughts on having to even think about Jason’s sex life. “I’d say you have an addiction, but you’ve never had that problem before.” 

“It feels like it sometimes,” Jason offered, trying to find the right words. This was a conversation he never expected to have with the other man. “I can’t get enough of him. We just…resonate on so many different levels. And it’s not like we have everything in common either, because that’s just boring.” 

“You complement each other.” 

Jason nodded, liking the sound of that. “Yeah. And I think—I think maybe I want us to be something more?” 

This time, Bruce’s sigh had a sad note to it. “Son, you know that’s not a good idea. Dick and Barbara work because she’s been part of this for nearly as long as he has. But starting a relationship with someone who is nothing more than a civilian? That’s not going to end well.” 

A knife to the heart would hurt less, but he accepted the words as less criticism and more pain from someone who’d been in his shoes before. “I know. But at the same time, it just feels so damned right.” 

Bruce’s hand fell on his shoulder and Jason looked up, not realizing he’d been staring at the cave floor. “For what it’s worth, I believe that if any of us could successfully step away from this life, it would be you.” 

“Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

As far as Tim was concerned, his current mission was a cakewalk. Easy in, easy out, nice payday. Despite that, he was plenty aware that shit could still go upside down and sideways, destroying all their carefully laid plans. 

_“That new body armor is working out great,”_ Kon commented through the comm. _“We’ve got no heat signature from you on the map.”_

“Doesn’t breathe very well,” Tim replied in a very low tone. It was actually chafing in a rather uncomfortable place. As soon as he got to the getaway boat, he was tossing it overboard. Chances were likely it wasn’t the most unusual item to be tossed into Amsterdam’s waterways anway. 

_“Can’t win them all.”_

Nope. But with the amount of money he brought in, they could afford better. He was saving that comment for Cassie and his debrief later. 

For now, he made himself comfortable in the hedgerow across the canal from the private home his target, Jacques Traarbach, currently called his own. The man was an arms dealer who had apparently skimmed a little too much off the top from the wrong person. Or perhaps that person hadn’t appreciated having anything skimmed in the first place, who knew?

Either way, it wasn’t his problem. 

Glancing at his watch to confirm the time, he idly came to the realization that by this time tomorrow, Jason would be here. It had been two months since he’d seen the other man, which was two months too long as far as he was concerned. They’d met up several times over the last six months, mostly for stolen weekends when Jason was traveling for work. 

Jacksonville, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, Houston—again—, and Las Vegas. The last was the most memorable, mostly because Tim had been there on legitimate business and even had Bart along to deal with all the techno-babble. 

Of his friends, he was the only one to have met Jason so far. Bart had all but vibrated in excitement as they shook hands before something new and shiny at the technology convention stole his attention. 

Fun times. 

This was also their first international trip together since they’d met nearly a year ago. Somehow, that felt significant and Tim wondered yet again why it seemed that way. They were _not_ celebrating an anniversary. How could they, when they weren’t a couple? 

Well, sort of. Cassie called them a couple of idiots. To her, as well as Kon and Bart, they were dating, even if they didn’t call it that. 

Tim still wasn’t sure what to call what he and Jason had. They spoke for hours at a time, not every day, but easily a few times a week. And when they were together, they made sure not to waste a single second. Even if that did mean they rarely got out of bed and only left the hotel for food.

It worked. It really did.

So why did he feel so empty? 

In the distance, the bells of a church rang the hour and Tim readied himself. Without fail, within minutes of the clock tolling ten, Traarbach would step out onto his back balcony and smoke a cigarette, giving him the perfect opportunity.

_“I heard bells. You ready?”_

“Yes. Now shut up and let me work.” 

This was why it paid to be patient. To be methodical. To be _prepared_. He’d spent the better part of the week learning the habits of his target, secure in the knowledge that the worm Bart placed in his computer would indicate if he’d break from his routine. 

The balcony door opened and Traarbach stepped outside, already reaching for his silver cigarette case. A feminine voice called after him, too distant for Tim to make out, but he did hear Traarbach’s reply clearly from across the water. 

“Het duurt maar een minuut. Slechts één sigaret, meer heb ik niet nodig.” 

One minute. Plenty of time. 

Tim raised his sniper rifle and took aim. A flash of fire from the lighter was the only illumination he needed as the man leaned against the ornamental railing, inhaling his last breath.

* * *

Distantly, Jason watched as Traarbach’s body folded over the railing and fell into the canal below. It was a nice piece of work, he’d give whoever shot him that much credit. Single shot, dead on contact. Very neat. 

He’d spent the last few days scoping out the area, getting a feel for it like he was performing the hit himself. His observations led to the discovery of Traarbach’s regular smoking habit, a fact he was pleased to see his target had picked up on as well. That meant whoever this was had a brain. 

Or some really good information. Either way, the arms dealer was dead, and Jason’s job was finally starting. 

His perch high up in an old leafy tree gave him not only a clear view of the back of the house, but also the surrounding area. He’d identified three possible locations where the shot could have come from and each one was easily visible from where he sat. 

Which was why it came as a shock when a slim figure emerged from the shadows of the fucking hedgerow right across the street. Only by pure chance had his gaze slid across that particular spot to catch the movement. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, already dropping silently to the thicker branch beneath him as the person darted across the shadowed footpath and into the park on this side of the canal. There was no mistaking the silhouette of a rifle slung over their shoulder. 

_“Problem, Hood?”_ came Steph’s voice over the comm. 

“Not yet. Standby.” 

_“Copy that.”_

The figure slipped through the trees as though they weren’t even there, weaving in and out of the shadows with a liquid smoothness that Jason had only ever seen from one other person. Cassandra. 

And since he knew exactly where she was, the chance that this was Wraith grew. Based on the information he’d been given about the other two contenders, they simply didn’t stack up against what he was seeing. This…this was skill. 

He landed on silent feet and followed. 

The chase lasted for only a few minutes across the narrow band of forested land within the broader scope of the old city. Jason watched as the person approached a low wall just inside the entrance to the park and came to a stop. In the faint light, he made out a motorcycle. 

“They’re about to go mobile.” 

_“On it.”_

Jason had parked his bike much closer to Traarbach’s house and was quietly cursing that fact. Still, this was why he had a partner. And a motorcycle that could be remotely driven without him. It would be here in minutes. 

He just hoped he had them to spare. 

The shadowy form suddenly became a person as they pushed back what appeared to be a cowl, shaking loose dark hair that had been slicked back. It was almost immediately concealed again, this time with a dark colored beanie, followed by a motorcycle helmet. 

_“I finally had a heat signature flash on my screen,”_ Steph said. _“What are they wearing?”_

“Not a clue. I can find out.” 

_“No, you are not supposed to engage, Hood. The bike will be here in four minutes.”_

“They’ll be gone in two.” That was being generous. 

_“You have a tracker. Use it.”_

“If I get that close, they’ll know it.” He shook his head, even though the gesture was lost in the darkness. “You haven’t seen how they _move_ , Spoiler. This person is trained, perhaps even more than we are.” 

_“That’s impossible.”_

“Unless B is right and this is Wraith…” 

Steph groaned in frustration. _“Okay. Okay. But if he starts yelling, I’m telling him this was your idea.”_

“Fine.” 

Jason moved forward with all his own stealthy grace, not that it did any good. A few yards from his target, the person whipped their head around to stare right at him. 

The person didn’t even hesitate. Throwing a leg over the motorcycle in one smooth move that revealed exactly how skintight their gear was, they hit the ignition. The engine sputtered once, then died. They tried again, going easier on the throttle, only to receive the same results. 

Clearing his throat, Jason held up his hands and dared to take another step forward. “I swear, I didn’t do it.” 

“Why are you here?” the person spoke in a low timbre that was distinctly male, even muffled as it was by the helmet. 

No wonder he thought that ass looked good. 

“No _who are you?_ ” Jason asked, stopping when the gun slipped over the man’s shoulder and into a gloved hand. 

“That much is obvious, Mister Dildo Helmet. There’s only one person I’m aware of who wears something like that.” 

In his ear, Steph snorted. _“Oh my god, whoever he is, I like him already.”_

“That particular helmet has very much been retired, thanks,” Jason retorted, silently swearing revenge on his partner. 

The man quietly tried the throttle a third time and the bike choked before giving up. “This one isn’t much of an improvement.” 

“Everyone’s a critic.” At least it wasn’t the one with the lips. That had been too creepy, even for him. Although throwing it at Damian and watching him scream had been hilarious. 

“Answer my question.” The gun didn’t even waver as the man swung off the motorcycle. 

Damn. Jason swallowed hard at the leanly muscled lines of the man’s body. He was a wet dream walking, a— 

What the fuck was wrong with him? He had a relationship, sort of. He had Tim. And after this trip was over, then maybe they’d be something more. Standing here staring and wishing for a fellow assassin to bend over and shake his ass was _not_ in the cards. 

Getting a hold of himself, Jason answered. “I was sent here to observe.” 

Honesty was the best policy, right? 

“Why?”

“Because we want to know if you really exist.” 

“And just who am I supposed to be?” 

Before he could reply, the quiet rumble of another motorcycle interrupted as it entered the park. 

“That would be my ride,” Jason said, stepping around the man—Wraith, it had to be—to swing a leg over his bike, keeping his hands up where they could be seen. “And since yours is apparently a POS, I’m willing to share.” 

_“B is gonna kill you.”_

The man chuckled softly. “My team says I shouldn’t accept rides from strangers.” 

Steph flat out laughed and Jason echoed it. “Yours is the one that needs a better mechanic.” 

“Trust me, I already plan to bitch them out about this when I have the chance.” 

“You’ll have that chance. I promise.”

* * *

Much to his own surprise, Tim accepted the Red Hood’s offer. 

_“Oh my god, you’re gonna die,”_ Kon said through the comm. _“That’s it. We’re done for. We’re all gonna die.”_

As he settled his hands around the Red Hood’s waist, Tim could hear Cassie distantly shouting through the other end, demanding to know what happened. 

_“That bike is a piece of shit, that’s what! And now Tim is on his way to an inglorious death.”_

Beneath his motorcycle helmet, he rolled his eyes at them. Drama queens, each and every one of them. He could already imagine Bart buzzing around the control room getting in the way. 

But rather than give his team anything else to squawk over, he simply said “Turn left here.” 

Hood complied, smoothly turning the bike down the street. 

Tim smothered a moan. The piece of machinery beneath him was a work of art and he wanted nothing more than to get his hands all over it to see what made her tick. It was so unfair that the Bats had all the good toys. Where did they get the money for them, seriously? It wasn’t like they got paid for the work they did.

As much as it pained him to acknowledge the thought, Ra’s had been right in that the Bats of Gotham were a bunch of do-gooders who couldn’t accept the dark realities of the world. Then again, his mentor was also an egomaniacal maniac who had his own delusions of grandeur. 

Way to be caught between a rock and a hard place. 

“Right,” Tim directed and the Red Hood took another corner without even slowing down.

Damn, but he was good. And warm. And going back to that hard place, if this was who he had to be pressed up against on one side, sign him the hell up. 

So he had a kink that involved dangerous men. Big deal. After what he’d had to endure and survive, the fact he was as functional as he was spoke volumes for his ability to bounce back. Or suppress, but now wasn’t the time to analyze that thought further. 

They zigzagged through the streets, traveling the original escape route he’d mapped out. 

_“Crap, he’s actually listening to him.”_ Kon sounded more than a little amazed. _“Hey Bart, you still have the boat en route?”_

Tim could only assume the shout was an affirmative. It had better be or else he’d be really pissed. 

The Red Hood didn’t make any attempt to speak with him or otherwise engage. What was his game? Why was he here? Traarbach was small fry compared to the targets the Bats were known to go after. Hell, Tim was only here because the payout was damn good. Otherwise, he’d have passed on the assignment. 

At his level of expertise, he could afford to be picky. 

“Take me down to the water,” he ordered when the Red Hood took the last turn and started driving parallel to a sparsely lit canal that was more river at this point. 

The Red Hood did just that, carefully maneuvering the motorcycle down an embankment. “Under the bridge?” he asked, motioning toward the old bridge ahead of them. 

“Yeah.” 

They rumbled to a stop moments later and Tim had to force himself not to linger on the magnificent machine. 

“Thanks,” he offered, taking a few steps toward the canal and out of reach of Red Hood’s arms.

“Not a problem. Shit happens.” Hood shrugged and the gesture drew attention to his broad shoulders. 

Tim swallowed hard, taking note of the striking figure straddling that bike. Damn. In the still chafing confines of his bodysuit, his dick twitched. Fuck, what was wrong with him? In his entire life, only one other person had ever made him want to immediately bend over and he was meeting up with them tomorrow for fuck’s sake.

Yes, Hood was ripped, unless that was the body armor playing tricks on him—probably not—but no one should look that good casually mounted across a motorcycle.

Glad for his own helmet, Tim closed his eyes and counted down from ten. Snap out of it, he told himself. This wasn’t a safe situation. _He_ wasn’t safe. As it was, he now had to assume there were eyes and ears on him, ones that would follow every step he made. Extreme evasive measures were needed. 

“So why are you really here?” he asked, glancing up the canal to make out the steadily approaching boat. At least _something_ was going right tonight. 

“It’s like I said.” Hood shrugged again and Tim swallowed again as he noted the emphasized muscle across his chest. “Observation only. We got a tip that Traarbach might be your next target and I’m following up on it.” 

“But why? It’s not like any of the others in our distinctly small profession are a threat to the Bats of Gotham.” Banter. He could do banter. Keep him talking, see what he let drop. 

“Yeah, but you’re the only one we didn’t know was actually real.” 

The boat slowed, drawing up alongside the damp stone of the narrow embankment under Bart’s careful guidance. 

_“Your ride, milord,”_ Kon announced. _“Get on and get the fuck outta there.”_

“I am real,” Tim offered with a cheeky grin. “I’m standing right here.” 

A growl of clear frustration came from the Red Hood. “Tell me your name. Your code name,” he was quick to clarify. 

“Who do you want me to be?” Tim knew damn well what Hood was fishing for, what the Batman was really after. He’d worked hard to keep Wraith as nothing more than a rumor, a whisper on the back of the wind. He was not giving up a decade’s worth of deception on a whim. 

Another growl. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?” 

“If you want my name, you have to work for it, Hood. Tell Batman this was fun, but if he really wants to make nice with me, I want one of those motorcycles to start with.” 

In one swift motion, Tim pushed the boat away from the quay and leaped aboard. The engine roared to life and he was off, laughing at the shout coming from behind him. 

_“Ballsy, Tim. Oh my freaking god, you just one-upped a Bat.”_

“And not just any Bat. The Red Hood.” 

Kon groaned. _“Great. Just great. Cassie, tell Tim he needs to stop flirting with the enemy.”_

_“Tim, stop flirting with the enemy.”_

Tim snorted as he took a seat behind the wheel of the speedboat to take manual control. “I was not flirting.” 

_“Oh, really?_ Who do you want me to be? _Geeze, Tim. This is like you and Jason all over again. Just with guns and masks and a hell of a lot more intrigue.”_

“This is nothing like how he and I met,” Tim defended himself. “That involved a lot more skin. And tongue.” 

A lot of tongue.

* * *

That cocky little shit. Jason was still torn between whether he wanted to shoot the man he believed to be Wraith or bend him over the back of his motorcycle. Which was not a thought he needed to be having when he was between Tim’s thighs, gently bringing his cock to life. 

But damn if the events of last night weren’t on repeat and playing over and over again. He’d never had such a visceral urge to just fuck someone, aside from Tim. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass? Here he had a perfectly healthy, if somewhat—okay very—unconventional relationship with another man that drove him insane the moment they laid eyes on each other. 

Tim had barely put his suitcase down before he was in Jason’s arms and they fell onto the bed. Catching up consisted of relearning the lines of each other’s body, what made them tick, and what made them groan. Tim bouncing on Jason’s cock definitely made him groan. And moan. And grunt. And a whole host of other things. 

But despite all of this, he was still fixated on Wraith. 

It had to be Wraith. Who else could have given them all the slip so quickly and efficiently after that cheeky little parting shot? Bruce wasn’t convinced, not yet, but that wasn’t a big surprise. He’d tried ordering Jason home early, to which he gave his dad a firm _fuck you_ as he checked into the hotel Tim had booked for them. 

Tim. 

Jason rubbed his nose against the soft skin of Tim’s inner thigh. He _wanted_ to be here. Right here, sucking on his cock and mouthing at his balls, teasing him with a light caress and deftly applied finger. This was everything he could want, and it was right here in front of him. 

No need to chase after wraiths who’d taken a physical form. 

“You’re a million miles away,” Tim stated softly, sighing as Jason looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Sorry. It’s not you, it’s just…work,” he finished lamely. “Something important came up when I was on my way here and I can’t get it out of my head.” 

That was putting it mildly. 

Tim nodded and yawned, the dark smudges beneath his eyes more prominent than usual. “Same,” he replied, tugging on Jason’s hair to drag him up and away from his prize. “I was up all night, and the time change isn’t doing me any favors. How about we just sleep for the next six hours or so?” 

Jason glanced out at the brilliant afternoon they were missing outside. He’d wanted to do something with Tim that was more than just sex and finding a stroopwafel vendor. But sleep? No. That was what coffee was for. 

He pressed a kiss to Tim’s shoulder. “I’ve never been to Amsterdam before. Was kinda hoping we could do some touristy stuff together besides hanging out in bed.” 

Beneath him, Tim stiffened, going from sleepy and relaxed to alert in nothing flat. “Oh?” 

The tone did not bode well. 

Great. Just great. He was fucking things up already. Jason buried his face in the pillow, getting ready to kiss this relationship good-bye as he jettisoned it off into the sun. 

“Jay?” Tim prodded, poking him in the ribs. “What’s wrong?” 

Rolling off to the side, he stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to see Tim’s face or his reaction. “It’s just… Ugh, I like what we have, don’t get me wrong. But we’ve been doing this for almost a year now and I…kinda want a little more?” 

There was a long silence, so long that Jason dared to peek over at his whatever-the-fuck Tim was. He knew how the other man got when he was exhausted, so it was entirely possible he’d passed out on him. 

To his credit, Tim was still awake, lost in thought. 

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Jason said in a rush. “Fuck, you can sleep on it if you want. I just…” he sighed, unsure of how to continue. 

“I want to,” Tim replied slowly, almost as though he was testing each word. “I really do. But…How?” He rolled over so that they faced each other. “How are we going to make this work?” 

It wasn’t a no. Thank fucking god. A tightness in his chest relaxed and allowed him to breathe again. “I don’t know. Was hoping we could figure it out as we go along? I’m not looking for a life-long commitment here, just the ability to say I have a boyfriend when someone gets nosy.” 

Tim smiled, slightly crooked, but fond. “You just want to be able to say you have a boyfriend so you can tell them to fuck off.” 

“That too.” Jason shuffled a little closer. “So you wanna go on a date with me this afternoon?” 

“As long as it involves copious amounts of caffeine, yes.”

* * *

Being in an official relationship with Jason wasn’t much different from what they had before, which suited Tim just fine. There was a title attached to it now, allowing him to call Jason his boyfriend whenever something came up rather than simply his name. So everything was great. 

Really. 

Tim curled up into the arm of his couch, sullenly staring out at the foggy expanse while Kon laughed at him. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot you.” 

“You won’t do that either.” 

Why did he have a best friend again? 

“You’re supposed to be helping me, not laughing your ass off.” 

Kon flopped bonelessly onto the middle of the couch, still chortling. “I just need to get this out of my system first.” 

Tim grabbed a throw pillow and swung it around, beaning his friend in the head. “I’d have more support from Bart.” 

Not really, but his other friend had at least met Jason and thought he was cool. And musclely. He’d even asked if Jason could do that thing where he could make his pecs jiggle just by flexing. Tim had wanted to sink through the floor at that one. 

“Okay, okay,” Kon wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Alright, I think I’m done.” 

“I changed my mind. I don’t want your help.” 

“Dude, you need all the help in the world.” 

Tim glared. “I shouldn’t have said a damn word.” 

“Probably not, but you did, so deal with the consequences.” Kon shifted around to face him, still smirking. “I can’t believe you’ve never actually dated someone before. I know you have the birds and the bees down, but dating? I’ve seen you charm the pants off plenty of people. And a few times, literally.” 

“Sex is different,” Tim muttered, reaching for the pillow again to hug it tightly against his chest. “I can do sex. Especially no strings attached sex.” 

“I noticed.” 

“But a relationship? Kon, I kill people for a living. What the hell was I thinking saying yes?” 

Kon sighed, sobering finally. “You do a lot more than just kill people. You run a legit software company in the heart of Silicon Valley that rakes in millions every year on its own. If you really wanted to, you could stop being Wraith and just be Tim Drake. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made noises like that.” 

This was true. He’d done it before, tried giving it all up. But there was a part of him now that was so intrinsically twisted to the point where losing out on the thrill of the hunt, of coming out ahead of his prey, would quite possibly destroy him. 

He blamed Ra’s. When in doubt, he was a good person to blame for everything that was wrong with him. 

“While I agree with all of those points, you and I both know why I can’t stop,” Tim said quietly. 

Kon sighed and nodded. “Well, think of it this way. You’re dating. It’s not like you’re looking for a long-term relationship or two dogs and a white picket fence. Both of those imply commitment, which you’re very much not into.” 

“Being single was easier.” 

“But then you’d be missing out on that cock you never shut up about when Cassie and I manage to get you drunk.” Kon snickered. “I haven’t even met the guy and I know more about his junk than I ever wanted to.” 

“Hey, his junk is awesome. And his thighs. And his abs—” Tim trailed off, momentarily lost in a memory of staring straight up the line of Jason’s body, that magnificent cock still twitching from when he made him come without even touching it. His mouth watered. “Dammit.” 

“Let’s face it, dude. You got it bad.” 

“Shut up.” 

The problem was, he did have it bad. But damn, did it feel so good. 

Jason made him feel things he’d thought were destroyed years ago, made him remember what it was like to feel happy and wanted and…even loved. 

Tim shied away from that word so fast he gave himself whiplash. He was _not_ falling in love with Jason Todd. It wasn’t happening. At all. He just happened to really enjoy his company. His laugh. The way his eyes shifted color depending on his mood. Or how he peered over the rim of his reading glasses whenever Tim entered the room and smiled like he was the best thing he’d ever seen. 

Shit. 

Hanging his head over the back of the couch, Tim stared at the uninspiring ceiling. 

Okay, so he was falling in love. Maybe it was time to take a little break from things. They lived across the freaking country from each other, so it wasn’t like they saw each other often. He could try cutting back on their calls under the pretense of work. He could… 

He’d do precisely none of those things because Jason had wormed his way under his skin so thoroughly that trying to excise him would be like removing a piece of himself. 

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“It happens sometimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stage has been set. All the pieces are in place. It's time for the official plot of the story to finally start!


	4. Chapter 4

Tim pulled the trigger. Moments later, shouts erupted as his target hit the ground, blood and brain matter joining her.

“Nice shot.” 

He whipped around, smoothly pulling a knife from a wrist sheath and flinging it in the direction of Hood’s voice. 

The bastard stepped aside, calm as could be, and the knife kept going. 

“That was my favorite knife.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have thrown it at me.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.” This was what? The third time Hood had crashed one of his assignments in nearly as many months. It was starting to be a thing. Oh God, it was becoming a _thing._ Beneath his mask, Tim glared. “Are you stalking me?” 

“No.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“Observing. You’re a great shot. Almost as good as me.”

Somehow, he just knew the bastard was grinning. 

“Is this some weird way of asking me out on a date?”

Through his comm, Kon snickered. _“Pretty sure you’re the one who wants to do that. Poor Jason, tossed aside for Mister Red Dildo helmet."_

Like that would ever happen. Even if Hood did have thighs that could only be described as _thicc._

“No can do, I’m already taken.” The imagined grin grew larger. 

“Who’d want to date a jerk like you?” 

The Red Hood stiffened. “Since when have I ever acted like that around you?” He sounded affronted, which was quite the feat with the voice modulator. Tim was still working on that. He’d never had to use one of his own until Hood started showing up everywhere he went. It pressed uncomfortably against his throat, the collar hidden beneath the cowl. 

Bart and Kon still found it utterly hilarious that the only collar they could find that didn’t make Tim want to rip it off and shoot it was from a sex shop. The jokes were neverending.

“Your being here, to start.” Tim grabbed his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. “As fun as this is, I’ve got an escape to make. I’ll try not to see you next time.” 

Brushing past Hood, the man spouted off a series of numbers. 

“What?” Tim paused to cast a questioning glance his way. 

“It’s a phone number, nimrod.” 

“Why?” More importantly, what the hell? 

“In case you ever need to get a hold of me for anything. Or to talk shop with a real professional.” 

It was oddly touching and…No. No, he was not going down that rabbit hole. “I only see one professional here.”

“Hey!” 

Tim shrugged and grinned. “Just calling it like I see it. I’m not the one who works for a man in a furry suit.”

* * *

In his ear, Steph’s laugh took on a hysterical note. _“Oh my fucking god. I need to meet this guy. Seriously. Hook us up.”_

Not a chance in hell. The chaos and collateral damage would be too much for even Alfred’s famed patience. 

“We all make fun of the furry suit. It comes with the territory.” 

“So does marking your territory, apparently.” 

Why was bantering with Wraith so much damn fun and such a fucking turn-on? Jesus Christ, it was like a prelude to some serious sex when Tim was in a playful mood. 

“Do I look like a dog?”

“No, but you’re begging like one.” Wraith’s grin dimmed. “Seriously though. Leave me alone. I don’t know what you or Batman are after, but you’re not getting it. 

“We’re just trying to solve a little puzzle.” That much was true. But Jason would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy the verbal sparring he engaged in with the other man each time they crossed paths. 

“What you see is what you get.” 

“Care to tack on a name to that sweet little package?” 

Fuck. He didn’t mean to let that slip and from the gasp in his ear, Steph wasn’t expecting it either. 

_“Oh honey. You got it bad.”_

Wraith’s lips tightened into a wicked smirk, one that sent shivers down Jason’s spine. “And deprive you of the joy of figuring it out for yourself? I don’t think so.” 

“Cock tease.” 

“You love every second of it.” 

The sad thing was, it was so damned true.

* * *

Tim drummed his fingers on the conference table, attention on the monitor in front of him while Cassie went over the details of his next assignment. Unlike his last few targets, this one presented an actual challenge. 

About damned time. 

Beside him, Bart twirled a pen between his fingers. “So, what are the odds the Red Hood will crash this mission too?” he commented when Cassie finished and opened the floor to questions. 

“Even Vegas wouldn’t put odds on that,” Kon snorted.

Cassie rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of her head. “Focus, you guys. Tim’s going to need all of us on our A-game to come out ahead on this one.” 

“They do have a point though,” Tim offered. “Roger Jezak is someone who has to be on the Bats’ radar. Hell, he’s been on ours for a while. I’d say the odds are good that if Batman hears about this, then the Red Hood won’t be far behind.” 

“He’ll only hear about it if you tell him.” Cassie’s blue eyes darkened. “I still can’t believe he gave you his phone number.”

“I didn’t ask for it!”

The peanut gallery snickered. “Someone _liiiikes_ you,” Bart teased. 

He couldn’t argue that. Each time his path crossed Hood’s, it grew harder and harder to deny the growing attraction—and he was certain the feeling was mutual. Kon said it was like watching a fireworks show go off, which was rather apt since that was what it felt like in Tim’s gut as soon as he spotted the dull gleam of that red helmet, despite his protests otherwise. 

“You going to invite Jason to meet you in Chicago for a post hit celebration?” Bart asked, drawing Tim out from his thoughts.

Looking over the timetable they’d been given, he shook his head. “This is shorter notice than we usually give each other, so probably not. He’s also traveling a lot in the next couple of weeks and isn’t exactly sure of his itinerary yet.” 

Cassie chuckled. “You’re still going to mention it to him, right?” 

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend am I?”

* * *

“Chicago, huh?” Jason stretched out across the length of his sofa, idly stroking Tig who was purring up a storm at the attention. “I fucking love that city.” 

“Me too,” Tim replied, chuckling over the phone. It was on speaker, resting beside his head. It was almost like his boyfriend was there beside him, if not for the distinct lack of warmth. “WE finally set your schedule yet?” 

Jason scoffed, the disgust not hard to feign. The assignment Bruce had set him on for the next couple of weeks was a pain in the ass. He was catching a train in the morning to Philly, then from there was tailing some wannabe mobster who would hopefully lead him to the grand prize.

Roger Jezak, a retired mercenary who had far too much influence over current events in Central America than Bruce cared for. He’d been on their radar for quite some time, but this was the first hint they’d had in over a year that he was on the move again. Dick said the man was an old buddy of Slade Wilson and ran in the same circles.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Rose was pissed at her dad again and let that tidbit slip. She had a tendency to tell stories whenever she was furious with him.

“Sort of. The new scheduler is absolutely shit at his job, but I at least have a train to catch in the morning and a hotel to stay in tomorrow night.”

“Well, that’s something.”

Jason heard the tapping of a keyboard and could easily imagine Tim curled up with his laptop, hard at work on some new project. He really was smart, even if he liked to say his partner Bart was the brains behind everything. It was a shame he couldn’t convince Tim to even visit Gotham. He’d have a field day at WE, he was certain of it. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, not holding out much hope. “Just don’t hold your breath.”

* * *

Tim could honestly say he liked Chicago. There was something about it that reminded him of Gotham, but without all the negative connotations behind it. He could do without the winters though. 

And the wind. 

Said wind cut through the narrow gap between the building he’d claimed for his vantage point with a screeching howl, making any shot unpredictable at best. The lack of collateral damage was a reason why Wraith was one of the best at what he did, but under these conditions, he’d be lucky if his usual single shot would strike the desired target.

 _“The clouds are thick enough Bart’s lost all eyes on your position. You’re on your own if Hood makes an appearance.”_

“Like that’s any different from usual.” Tim curled up even tighter against the stone molding, not taking his eyes off the back of the hotel across the street. For all he knew, Hood was watching him already. “He never shows until after I’m done anyway.” 

If their information was good, then Jezak would leave within a quarter hour, which was fifteen minutes too long in his opinion. The thin layer of body armor he wore beneath his clothes did nothing to keep the wind from penetrating him. It was a damn shame Jason wasn’t around to keep him warm. The man ran hot as a furnace at times. 

_“Think you’ll need the harness?”_ Kon asked. 

Rigged up behind him was a tether that clipped into the body harness Tim wore over his clothes. Using it would give him a steeper angle in which to take the shot, allowing him to hang almost perpendicular to the side of the building.

“Probably.” 

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the wind gusted, bringing with it the scent of rain. 

Shit.

Tim stretched his fingers, then tucked them back under his arms. This was going to be close. 

Movement across the street caught his eye and he sat up, rolling out from the meager protection of the stonework. The scope on his rifle was already calibrated for the distance, better than any pair of binoculars. 

A car was pulling up, dark, nondescript, and if those weren’t bulletproof windows, he’d eat Kon’s gym socks. 

“I have incoming.” 

_“About time. You a Timsicle yet?”_

That wasn’t worth responding to, not when he was making the myriad of minute adjustments and calculations needed to make his shot. Tim blew out his breath in frustration. There was nothing for it—he’d have to use the harness and tether.

“Time to dangle,” he announced, then stood up, boots brushing the edge of the roof. 

Two men in suits got out of the car. One stood guard, packing some visible heat, while the other ran to the backdoor of the hotel and opened an umbrella. 

Dammit. Tim leaned over the ledge, trusting in the harness and line he’d quadruple checked earlier, and took careful aim. Street pizza was not on the menu tonight. Scrambled brains, on the other hand… 

Lightning flashed overhead and out of the corner of his eye, a familiar shade of red briefly illuminated the night. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._ Glancing down and to the right, he caught the back of the Red Hood’s head as he too stared down the barrel of a sniper rifle from a narrow fire escape a few floors beneath him. 

Oh. They were after the same target. 

Beneath his scarf, Tim grinned. 

This was going to be _fun._

* * *

Finally. After nearly ten days on the road, it all came down to this shot. In moments, the world would have one less shit stain to deal with and his weekend would be free to do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

As soon as he was in a safe location, he was calling Tim. He was getting laid before he left town and there was nothing Bruce could do to stop him. 

The wind howled and once again, Jason was glad he’d been able to wait it out inside the vacant apartment overlooking the back of Jezak’s hotel. As it was, the narrow fire escape was freezing, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. A couple of shots, then he’d slip back in and close the window behind him, leaving no trace that he was ever there in the first place. 

Down below, the flunky with the umbrella hovered by the backdoor. There was no telling who’d be out the door first. However, in his experience, only the most important person in the room would have the umbrella held out for them. 

The door opened. 

“We’re on,” he announced, knowing Steph was already zooming in through the visual feed she was pulling from his helmet. 

_“Don’t fuck this up.”_

“When do I ever?” 

Jason watched closely as another man in a suit exited the building, looking to the left and right before marching down the steps. Flunky number three, not worth his time. Not smart enough to look up.

Thunder rumbled overhead, loud and long. The man with the umbrella held it higher against the spray of rain gusting down between the buildings. 

Another man stepped outside, his peppery gray hair illuminated briefly by the flash of lightning in the sky. 

A _crack_ split through the night and the man fell back, clutching his chest. A second _crack_ and he lost the side of his head. Shouts rang out as Jezak collapsed, dead from two well-placed bullets.

 _“What the hell? Hood, what happened? That wasn’t you!”_

Jason whipped his head up, ignoring Steph’s questions through the comm. 

Overhead, dangling precariously over the edge of the roof was Wraith. 

Son of a _bitch_. 

The other man clearly knew he was there as he waved jauntily before hauling himself back up onto the roof. 

No. No, that fucker was not disappearing on him this time.

Jason was moving before he even consciously thought about it, racing up the fire escape toward his prey. 

_“Hood, was that…?”_

“Wraith. Yeah.” 

_“Dammit. B’s not gonna like that.”_

“Dead is dead, what does it matter if we don’t know who hired him?”

 _“Who else besides us was after him?”_

“If I get an answer, you’ll be the first to know.”

The roof was empty by the time Jason cleared the ledge, but another flash of lightning and sheer luck briefly illuminated the darkly clad figure making a break for it. 

He chased after him, legs pumping hard in an effort to close the gap. Wraith was quick, there was no doubt about that, but he was several inches shorter while Jason was faster than he looked. Brick shithouses weren’t supposed to be able to run and he intended to use that to his advantage. 

Rain came down harder, causing an already uneven surface to become even more difficult to traverse. They thundered across the rooftops, the heavy footfalls echoing the wild storm above. 

Jason wanted to shout, to order Wraith to just stop so they could talk. Peeved didn’t even begin to describe how he felt about how the other man apparently still thought he had to run at the sight of him. Tonight, he had the distinct feeling Wraith was running to actually get away, to escape. Which he would if he made it street-side. 

Not this time. 

Putting on a burst of speed, Jason closed the gap, charging across a level expanse like it was nothing, and leaping across a gap. He tucked and rolled, leaping back to his feet in one smooth move that would do Dick proud. 

Almost there. Almost… 

Wraith slipped, staggering a couple of steps before recovering. 

But the damage was done, and Jason reached out, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking hard. “Will you fucking stop, already?” 

The man did, spinning around to reveal a face concealed by a heavy scarf and the usual cowl that reminded Jason of a black-colored condom. And he kept going, grounding himself with one foot and bringing the other up. 

Jason reeled back under the force of the strong roundhouse kick. “What the fuck?” 

Wraith reached for some hidden sheath in his jeans to pull out a collapsible staff that he snapped open with a flick of his wrist. “Why should I listen to you?” 

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because I’ve been nothin’ but nice since the moment we met?” 

“You mean stalking me.” 

“I am not stalking you.”

“Really? You show up everywhere I go now. What’s your game, Hood? And don’t try to tell me you’re a good guy. You kill people for a living, just like I do.” 

_“Oh, burn,”_ Steph commented through the comm. _“He’s got you there.”_

“No, I kill people for a _reason_ ,” Jason retorted. “I don’t get paid for this.”

“Then you shouldn’t be mad that I beat you to Jezak. Because I do get paid and I have to have a body in order to collect.” 

“But you don’t have to.” Jason held his hands wide, trying for disarming and probably failing if the way Wraith’s stance changed. “I’ve been paying attention to who you are and what you do. You kill people, but you have your own moral code. I’ve never once seen you take down someone who didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s your sales pitch?” The voice was mocking, and Wraith shook his head. “I told you once before. If Batman wants to make nice, I want one of your motorcycles as a starting price.”

“How can I make good on that if you never call to set up a delivery? I gave you a number.” 

“Like I’m dumb enough to call a number that has Oracle’s fingers all over it.” 

Jason stilled. “How do you know about Oracle?” No one knew about Babs. 

“Because I’m not an idiot.” Wraith planted his staff, a challenge written along every line of his body. “I have more resources available to me than most people in our line of work.” 

_“Shit. Wow. Okay, Hood. I owe you fifty bucks. If he’s not Wraith, then I’m giving up mashed potatoes.”_

“Wraith,” Jason pronounced, the settling in his gut telling him, now more than ever, that he was right. 

The man lowered the scarf from the bottom half of his face and grinned. “Are you sure?” 

“Stop playin’ games, you little shit.” To hell with it. He took a step forward. 

“Games are all we have, Hood.” Wraith twirled his staff once and planted the butt against the pebbly rooftop. “Care to play one with me?”

 _“Hood, no.”_

“Stakes?” 

The grin grew sharper, more predatory. “I win, I get that motorcycle—bug free.” 

“And if I win?”

“Then you’ll get what you really want. My name.”

“You’re on.” 

_“Fuck.”_

* * *

Tim didn’t know quite how he ended up in this situation. Well, he did, but there was a distinct gap in memory between the start of their fight to now. It would come back once the adrenaline wore off, but for the moment, he puzzled over how he ended up with his face smashed against the cold steel of a rooftop access door, pants around his ankles, and Hood’s cock up his ass. 

It had no right to feel as good as it did, not with the steady drizzle of rain falling around them, the shelter of the doorway meager at best. But as Tim came, he decided this ranked right at the top of his best orgasms list. Okay, new kink discovered.

Shame he couldn’t indulge it other than this one time. 

Behind him, Hood’s hips stuttered to a halt as he found his own release. His hot breath panted in Tim’s ear, the lower half of his helmet shattered by a well-placed strike from his bo-staff. He remained there for a moment, breathing hard, before slowly pulling out. 

Spit and come followed after Hood’s cock, and Tim twitched at the sudden chill on his ass. 

“Fuck,” Hood breathed. “Jesus fuck. I—I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

“You and me both,” Tim straightened, then reached into a pocket where he remembered stashing a napkin earlier. Boy, was he going to get it from Kon later. There was no way he could hide from this screw up. “I think we both needed that,” he said carefully, reaching behind him to start cleaning away the mess. 

“Yeah, but… _Fuck._ ”

Glancing over his shoulder, he took in the tight line of Hood’s lips, barely visible in the shadow of his helmet. Those and the strong chin were all he could see. It came to him then, a memory from one of the previous times they’d met. “You’re still dating that person, aren’t you?” 

Hood nodded. “I’m not someone who fucks around for the sake of it. When I’m in a relationship, I’m committed.” 

Tim shoved aside thoughts of Jason and the surprising lack of guilt he felt at the moment. It would come later, in spades, once he was alone and able to freak out properly. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’m in the same boat as you.” 

Hood’s head snapped up. “You are?” 

“Yeah. My first serious relationship and here I am with my pants sliced open.” Tim tucked the napkin back in his pocket and bent over pointedly to tug at his jeans. “Well, my under armor, that is.” 

That was something he distinctly remembered. Hood bending him over and using his knife to cut open Tim’s body suit when he wasn’t moving fast enough. On the bright side, it no longer chafed. 

“I’ll replace—” 

“Don’t even think about it.” Tim whirled around or tried to because he did still have clothes around his ankles, so it was more like a hop. “It takes two to tango, Hood. Or did you miss the fact that I was a very willing participant here?” 

He finished pulling up his jeans and tucked himself away, watchful of the zipper. 

Hood hadn’t even done that yet. Misery and guilt wracked every inch of his body. 

“Wraith—” he started, then stopped, apparently thinking better of his words, before starting again. “Will you at least let me do _something_ for you?” 

Tim sighed. Who’d have thought the Red Hood was such a softie under that tough exterior? “Fine. You can do one thing.” 

“Name it.” 

“Put your cock away.”

Hood startled, then looked down like he hadn’t even realized it was still hanging out. A quick shuffle and shimmy later, it was back where it belonged. “That doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, it does.” Tim dared to take a few steps forward and reached out, broadcasting every movement, before he gently placed a hand on Hood’s shoulder. “Hood, I got one question for you.”

“What?” 

It was strange to hear his voice without the modulator. Rough and deep, Tim wanted to roll around in it and tug it over him like a warm blanket. 

“Does your significant other know what you do? What we do?” he clarified in case it wasn’t entirely obvious. 

“No, he doesn’t.”

He. How fascinating. 

“Mine doesn’t either.” Tim sighed and retreated a step. “I kinda wish he did because I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t like to hide things from him.”

Hood’s low chuckle warmed him right to his toes. “Not exactly easy to come out and say _hey honey, did you know you’re dating a contract killer?"_

“Nope.”

The wind took that moment to gust, bringing with it the fresh promise of more rain. 

“You’re takin’ this a lot more calmly than I am,” Hood offered. “You guys haven’t been together long?”

Tim chuckled, recognizing the tactic for what it was and letting the other man have the distraction he clearly needed. “It’s complicated. I’m the one with commitment issues. Obviously.”

“I sense a but.” 

“But I’m also not blind to what’s going on right here. Let’s face it, we have chemistry. I think we just proved it rather well too.” 

Hood’s nod was more than a bit reluctant. “Yeah.” 

“And honestly? I think it’s because there are no lies between us. Well, except for the whole mask thing. But you know what I mean.” 

This time, there was no hesitation. “Yeah, yeah I do. There’s no holding back. You can take whatever I dish out.”

“And I can put you in your place if I don’t want it,” Tim finished. 

“There is a certain appeal to that.” Hood let out a breath. “But as much as I like you, I still love my boyfriend more.” 

“Good. Because I’d kick your ass if you didn’t.”

* * *

True to form, Tim had his freak out in the quiet privacy of his hotel room. He curled up in the shower, the hot water like stinging needles against his chilled skin. 

What the hell had he done? 

He was awful. The worst. He didn’t deserve Jason or anyone else for that matter. 

Distantly, he recognized that the fact he felt guilt in the first place was a good sign. It meant he was human after all and cognizant of how his actions impacted others. Or at least the ones he cared about.

And he did care about Jason. A lot. 

But he didn’t dare tell him what had happened. Not if he wanted to wallow in his warmth and his smile whenever he was near. 

Dammit, he deserved to have one nice thing in his life. And while getting fucked by the Red Hood was an incredible experience, it could never happen again. Not while he was with Jason and not with Hood being involved with someone too. 

Tim slapped off the water and emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, dripping water across the floor. On the dresser sat the bottle of vodka he’d bought on the way back here, as well as a two liter of soda he likely wasn’t going to touch. At least not right away.

Cracking open the seal, he untwisted the cap and took a swig straight from the bottle. It burned going down, which was no more than he deserved.

“To Hood’s boyfriend, whoever the fuck you are. You are one lucky bastard.”

* * *

When he entered Tim’s hotel room the next afternoon, Jason tried hard not to fall on his boyfriend like a starving man. He needed to wrap himself up in Tim and his everything to heal the raw wound in his heart. 

How could he have done this? He loved Tim. He really did. And while he was well aware of his partner’s commitment issues, he knew he was trying. It showed. 

Jason unwrapped Tim like the gift he was and drew him down onto the bed. “Fuck me,” he said, parting his knees so that there was no mistaking his meaning. 

He was usually the one doing the fucking, but right now, he needed this. Needed to have Tim take him apart and put him back together. 

“You sure?” There was a dark heat in Tim’s eyes, an intensity Jason hadn’t seen before. 

“Yeah. I wanna switch things up.” He must have sounded convincing because Tim reached for the lube without any further questions. 

It was everything he needed and more. Jason buried his face in the pillows, hiding the tears streaming down his face as Tim took him from behind. Just like he’d done to Wraith. 

The thought was enough to make him come and Tim’s thrusts faltered as he clenched around him, finding his own release. 

Jason didn’t move as Tim pulled out, murmuring something about getting a washcloth. If he tried, he knew he’d give away everything with the raw expression that had to be on his face. 

He had to pull his shit together. He was the Red Hood. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Batman and Nightwing, and took on the worst that the world had to throw at him and more. He was a survivor of Crime Alley, and had risen from the ashes under Bruce’s watchful eye as he lowered him into a Lazarus Pit. 

_He was better than this._

Schooling his features together, Jason wiped his eyes on the pillow and flipped it over so Tim wouldn’t see the damp stains. 

“You alright?” Tim asked as he returned with the warm cloth. It felt good on the back of his thighs, over his ass, and down his cock. 

“Yeah,” Jason replied, steadying himself. “Just a lot on my mind.” 

“I can tell.” Tim set the washcloth aside and stretched out on the bed, still completely naked.

It was normal. It was supposed to be relaxing, to just curl up beside each other and whisper about unimportant things until they fell asleep. 

So that was what he did. Jason drew Tim into his arms and pressed his face into the inky black hair that always seemed in need of a haircut. Breathing in Tim’s scent, his heart calmed, soothed by the knowledge that he hadn’t fucked things up entirely. This was who he belonged with, right here.

For as long as he’d have him. 

Tim was in the middle of some inane story involving Bart when the words slipped from Jason’s mouth. 

“Marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, I'll just be sitting over here reveling in all the screams.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this yet, but evrymeeveryyou screamed so convincingly at me, I decided to go ahead.

“What?” Tim sat upright and stared down at Jason. “What did you just say?” 

“You heard me.” 

“I think you need to get your head checked.” What the fuck? Where was this coming from? Okay, sure. They’d been together in some capacity for a year and a half now. But marriage? 

Jason’s open gaze shuttered, and Tim replayed the words he’d just spoken. 

“Fuck, that’s not…that’s not what I mean,” he said, backpedaling. “You just…surprised me.” 

“Commitment phobe, thy name is Tim,” Jason mocked, obviously hurt over the rejection. 

“Yes.” Tim went with the truth. “And you are more than aware that something this big requires working up to for me. A hint or six would be appreciated that you’re thinking about…that.” 

“You can’t even say it.” 

“ _Mawage. Mawage is what bwings us together today_ ,” Tim bit out, hiding behind the quote because Jason was right, and he didn’t want to admit it. 

“That doesn’t count.” 

He glared down at the man, looking closer because there was something going on behind those teal eyes. Jason knew better than to pop a question like this out of nowhere. It was time to roll on instinct. 

Eyes narrowing, Tim shifted on the bed. “What happened? And don’t give me some bullshit about being fine. You’re not. Is that why you wanted me to fuck you? Are you punishing yourself for something?” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he was right.

Jason’s angry façade crumbled, revealing the pain he’d been concealing beneath. “Tim, I…” 

“Spit it out.” 

“I cheated on you.” 

The words were like one of Hood’s right hooks. It left him breathless, unable to think, unable to process. Unable to…Huh. What were the odds? Tim suddenly became aware of the very fine line he was in the midst of having to cross. 

On the one hand, he hadn’t planned on saying a word to Jason about what happened last night. But on the other, here was Jason confessing to _the exact same thing._ Wow, he really was off the hook. Or would be, if he ever admitted to it. Which he wouldn’t. His little crisis was over. Done. He was moving on and not looking back. 

“Jay…” 

Jason sat up but wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay? I had a bit too much to drink the other night and so did my colleague—it didn’t go very far, I swear.” 

Oh. Damn. Tim almost felt disappointed that he didn’t have the high ground anymore. 

“How far?” he asked, because that was what he was supposed to say, right? 

“Second base? Almost third?” 

Tim saw red at the thought of someone else touching what he’d had exclusive use of for the last eighteen months. “Did you actually…?” 

“He wanted to suck me off.” 

Instantly, a memory of last night, of being on his knees with Hood’s cock in his mouth, came to mind. That was before they’d moved on to, well, home base. Yeah, he’d definitely scored a home run last night. Dammit, did he feel like a fucking tool. 

“He?” 

Jason’s eyes flashed briefly. “You know I’m gay.” 

Tim floundered. “Well, I’m not, okay? I swing both ways.” 

“You do?” 

“How have we not had this conversation before?” It was a damn sight better than the other one and Tim welcomed the tangent. 

“It never seemed like one that needed to happen?” Jason shrugged. “I mean, look at how we started.” 

“Two idiots who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.” Tim laid a hand on Jason’s thigh. 

The gesture wasn’t lost on him. 

“Are we still…?” Jason asked, a hopeful note to his voice. 

“Yeah, we are.” 

“And you’re not…mad?” 

“I don’t know what to feel right now.” Tim reached out and took one of Jason’s hands and laced their fingers together. “What did you do back? To the other guy?” 

He had a morbid curiosity to find out. 

There was a long pause before Jason spoke. “Nothing. I sobered up when he touched my dick and didn’t let it go any further.” 

Nothing. Tim smiled softly and kissed the back of Jason’s hand. He could handle nothing. 

If there had been more, he’d have to go out and _take care_ of something.

* * *

The first words out of Steph’s mouth upon his return to Gotham were “Good lord, Jason! I didn’t give you fucking _instructions_ before you cut me off, asshole!” 

Jason deadpanned, setting his gear down with a heavy _thunk_ on the nearest surface. “Really? Sure sounded like it.” 

His partner threw one of Tig’s toy mice at him. It bounced lamely off his chest. “That’s not what I meant and you know it! Oh my god, Jason! How could you?” 

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Oh, yes I do!” This time, it was Steph’s finger poking at his chest. “You cheated on Tim. _Tim_. You know, the guy you’ve been practically in love with since the moment you met.” 

Jason knocked her hand to the side. “I’m well aware of what I did.” 

“You don’t even sound sorry about it.” 

“Really, Blondie? Are you goin’ there?” 

“We both are, actually,” came Dick’s voice, emerging from the kitchen. “Seriously, Little Wing. What happened?” 

Jason had known he’d be getting shit as soon as he got home, but he hadn’t expected it to be this soon. He scowled at his partner. “You told Dick.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

“I had to tell someone!” she protested. “He’s got nearly as hard a head as you do, so hopefully he can smack some sense into it.” 

Glaring at his brother, Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “I told Tim.”

Steph gaped. “You what?” 

Even Dick looked concerned. “About…?” 

“I admitted that I cheated on him. Didn’t say how far it actually went.” He hung his head, still not exactly proud of how he’d navigated that minefield. 

Dick reached out and took hold of the back of his neck, steadying him. “How far did it go?” he asked, voice quiet. 

“All the way. It was just…I—” Jason struggled to find the words, but his brother seemed to understand what he was trying and failing to say. 

“It was the heat of the moment,” Dick said. “Adrenaline-fueled lust and maybe even a bit of anger tossed in?” 

He nodded. 

Steph’s righteous indignation faded, and she wrapped him in an awkward hug, resting her chin against his shoulder. “You and Wraith have been dancing around each other since the night you met. Even through the comms, I can feel the chemistry. If you didn’t have Tim, I’d be all for it, hon. I really would be.” 

“Wraith said he had someone else too,” Jason offered, tears burning at the corner of his eyes. He was not going to cry in front of them. He’d done enough of that last night. “That he’s in the same boat as me.” 

“Really?” Dick asked in a surprised tone. “It sounds like the other night was just a perfect storm of circumstances then?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

He was tired. So damn tired. Fuck WE tomorrow, he was taking a sick day to mope around. Maybe Tig would smother him in his sleep with her fur and put him out of his misery. 

“And Tim?” Steph prodded. “Are you two…?” 

“Still together? Yeah.” Jason ducked his head. “But I am in the dog-house, that’s for sure.” 

“Damn right you are.” Steph cracked her knuckles. “If I ever meet Wraith, I’ve got a knuckle sandwich to feed him.” 

“Just don’t wear your brass knuckles. That’d be kinda hard to explain to his boyfriend.”

* * *

As soon as Tim walked through the office door, Cassie took a swing at him. He ducked, barely. 

“You asshole! Oh my god, how could you do that to Jason?” she yelled, blue eyes flashing with anger. 

Tim caught Kon’s eye and he held up his hands. 

“You’re on your own here, dude,” he said. “I tried to be the voice of reason.” 

That was fair. He had tried. Tim just hadn’t wanted to listen. 

Even Bart was frowning at him. 

“It just happened,” Tim said in an attempt to offer up a defense. “It was like how it was when Jason and I met. Sparks and adrenaline, and just…everything.” 

“Since when has that ever been a valid excuse for cheating on your boyfriend?” Cassie snapped. 

“Hey, he cheated on me too!” 

Silence. 

Oh, right. They didn’t know. Tim made for the conference table, sitting down heavily. Wordlessly, his friends, his _partners_ , joined him. 

“What happened?” Kon asked. “Everything from after I cut the comm.” 

The story spilled out easier than he thought it would. From the best sex of his life, to Hood’s meltdown, to his own later that night, then the bomb Jason dropped on him.

“I think I did the right thing,” Tim finished. “We’re still together, but we want to take some time to focus on our actual relationship instead of just fucking across the nearest surface.”

“That’s great,” Cassie said. “But you didn’t tell Jason that you cheated on him too. Why?” 

Good question. Why didn’t he? Jason thought Tim held the higher moral ground here, which he totally didn’t because he’s a fucking liar who can’t commit even when the best thing in his life was slipping through his fingers. “I think—I think I didn’t because I knew that if I did, then it would be over between us. Completely over. I don’t want that.” 

“So it’s fair to let him wallow?” The comment came from Bart, who, as far as Tim knew, had never dated outside of a sim in his life. 

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “But what else can I do now? Give him a call and say _hey, by the way, I got fucked against a steel door the other night_? I don’t think so.” 

Kon rolled his eyes. “That might be a little much. Perhaps you can edit the story a bit. Say you got drunk on the way home, met someone, and made a really bad decision.” 

“You think I should tell him.” 

“Yeah, dude. I think you should.”

* * *

Tim waited until his next video call with Jason to give him a very abridged version of what had happened with Hood. It gave him time to practice his story, even going so far as to work on his facial expressions in the bathroom mirror. Cloud, his newest betta fish, was very impressed. 

“Hey,” he said, curled up the desk chair in his home office. 

“Hey,” Jason returned, looking all cool and relaxed in what Tim knew to be his living room. Behind him, a white cat peered over his shoulder. Antigone, the spoiled princess who didn’t like anyone except for the human who’d rescued her several years ago. “How’s it goin’?” 

Was it wrong that it was so easy to predict how their conversations would start? Not really, Tim supposed. They’d been together for long enough that directing a conversation was easy. The problem lay in the fact he had to open himself up to emotions he’d rather not explore in order to get through this. 

“Tim?” 

He curled up tighter in the chair, dragging his knees up to his chest. “I fucked up.” 

“What?” Jason leaned closer, filling the screen. 

“I said I fucked up.” 

“That’s what I thought you said. What happened?” His face was so open and earnest, it killed Tim to have to do this. 

Why couldn’t he just lie? That was so much easier than telling the truth, even bent as it was. 

“I got drunk on the flight home.” Tim paused, mostly for effect. “And then I kept drinking when I got back here.” 

“How was that fucking up? I did the same thing. Tig was not impressed with me the next morning.” 

“But then I decided to go out.” 

Jason’s expression went flat as the unspoken implications sunk in. “And?” 

Tim was finding it wasn’t as difficult to forcibly emote as he’d expected it to. In fact, the wooden feeling he felt throughout his body was remarkably real. “I went to a bar. Met a guy who looked a lot like you, and—” he swallowed, forcing back the lump in his throat. “And we fucked in one of the backrooms.” 

It wasn’t anywhere near what actually happened, but it was close enough. 

Jason closed his eyes, lips tightening as his jaw clenched. “Did you do it on purpose? Were you tryin’ to get back at me?” 

Blinking back tears, Tim shook his head, not acting anymore. “I can honestly say at no point did it occur to me that I was trying to get even with you.” 

Far from it, in fact. 

Why was this bothering him so much? It was a _lie._ A big fat lie to get him off the hook for having sex with someone he wanted nearly as much as the man on the monitor. But the repercussions of what he said he’d done—what he’d actually done—were looming large.

For the first time since he opened his mouth, Tim felt scared. This was why he should have just lied, dammit. Why did he listen to his friends again? 

“Were you drugged?” Jason asked, tearing him from his train of thought. 

Tempting as it was to take the out he’d just been offered, Tim could already see his friends all frowning at him. “No, just…just made a really bad decision.” 

“Why are you telling me?” 

That wasn’t a question he’d anticipated.

“Because I’ve had it smacked into my head more than once that I need to be honest with you if we’re going to make a long-distance relationship work.” 

“I feel like I owe Kon a drink for that.” Jason shook his head though, leaning back into his couch. “Christ, I don’t know what to think. What to say.” 

Tim lowered his knees slightly. “You’re taking this better than I thought you would.” 

“We both fucked up. But we also admitted to it instead of just lying.” Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Which I have a feeling you really wanted to do.” 

“It was my first instinct, yes.” Feeling like he needed to make a point, Tim sat up and gripped the arms of his chair. “I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never cared about someone enough to feel guilty over what my actions would do to them.” 

“So how do you feel?” 

Yet another question he wasn’t prepared to answer. Jason was asking all the tough ones, dammit. 

“Pissed off. Guilty.” Those were easy, but Tim had a suspicion those weren’t all the other man was looking for. “Confused. Worried. Scared.” 

“Congratulations, you’re a real boy after all.” Jason’s trademark sarcasm came through loud and clear. “Look. I’m angry. I’m fucking pissed. But the problem is, I’m furious with myself because if I hadn’t fucked up, then you wouldn’t have either.” 

Whoa. No, no way in fucking hell was Tim letting Jason shoulder the blame here. He thought quickly, trying to figure out how to turn this all back on him. 

“Jay, there’s a massive difference between second base and a home run. What I did, that was so much worse.” 

There was a long pause as Jason gathered his thoughts. It made Tim’s stomach want to rip in two. 

“Do you want to sleep around instead of waiting for the next time we manage to get together?” 

It was a valid question, but Tim already knew the answer. The only other person he wanted was the Red Hood and that was never happening again. 

“I don’t.” 

Jason dragged a hand through his hair. “Then nothin’ has changed from what we discussed last time. Next few times we get together, we’re focusing on each other, not sex.” 

A massive weight lifted from Tim’s shoulders. “Are you sure?” 

“No, but the thought of giving up after seeing how hard you’re actually trying—that means a lot. So, I’m gonna hang up now and go punch something.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Tim drew a deep breath. “Jay?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know, Tim. I know.”

* * *

That night, the Red Hood put on his gear and went out in search of something to hit. It didn’t take long. 

But in the haze of breaking bones and the spray of blood, he found no satisfaction. He used weapons only when he had to, preferring the feel of flesh on flesh. One fight became two, two became three. 

And during the fourth, Nightwing dropped down out of nowhere in his special exosuit to finally give him the fight he’d been craving. 

“What the fuck happened?” Dick growled after he’d laid Jason out. The bodies of half a dozen members from Two-Face’s gang were scattered around them, collateral damage from two titans colliding. 

Jason couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. He just wanted to lie here, in the shit and blood and who the fuck knew what else, like the trash he was. 

“Hood?” Dick knelt beside him and thumbed the switch to open the front of Jason’s mask. “Little Wing?”

“Just put me outta my misery.” He reached down and handed one of his guns to his brother. 

“ _What happened_?” Dick asked again, accepting the gun, but only to tuck it away out of reach. 

Dammit. 

“I fucked up.” 

“Yeah, we established that a few days ago. Did something else happen?” His eyes narrowed. “Did something happen to Tim?” 

At Tim’s name, Jason saw a flash of bright and lurid green behind his eyes. He could feel it, the Pit trying to take control. 

Dick must have seen something too, because the tip of his electrified escrima stick pressed into the base of Jason’s throat. A warning. 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he told his brother what happened. “So right now, it’s either pick a fight or steal the plane and hunt down the fucker who dared to touch what is _mine._ ” 

“Geez, possessive much?” 

“Like you wouldn’t do the same if it were Babs.” 

“True, but we’re also married. If either of us went out to get that drunk, then we’re already dealing with some serious problems.” Dick paused, apparently listening to someone through his comm. 

The comm Jason had purposefully disabled before even leaving the safehouse where he stored his gear. He hadn’t wanted to get an earful from Steph or Babs; fuck, even Bruce. What he was doing was stupid. But what else could he do? It wasn’t like he could talk to a therapist about his nightlife. Well, he could because technically Steph was one, but she already knew too much about his shit to remain unbiased. 

Dick sighed and slung the escrima back into its holster, then reached out a hand. “Babs says there’s a brawl breaking out a couple streets over. Some bar fight gone south. Wanna play some more?” 

Grasping his brother’s wrist, Jason hauled himself upright. “This fucking family.” 

“Hey, just be glad it was us. If Steph found you, you’d be watching bad action movies and eating a gallon of ice cream.” 

This was true. 

“Lead the way.”

* * *

The following week, Jason sat in his office at WE reading over reports from the research teams that worked directly beneath him. He liked his job, he really did. However, he was an engineer at heart and tinkering was in his soul. This high up the food chain, he missed out on getting his hands all over the good stuff. 

But he was in a position to get his hands on tech and other things that could prove useful to Bruce and the rest of them. A little diversion here, a change of coding there, and _whoosh_ , the promising item was in the cave for him to play with to his heart’s content. 

It just wasn’t quite the same as working on it with a team. Sure, Bruce was smart as hell, but he was a detective at heart. Logical reasoning, the power of deduction, the whole nine yards. He only tinkered when he had to, not because he wanted to. 

No wonder he’d said that out of all of them, Jason would most likely be the one who could break free and live a normal life. 

Some days, that thought was more tantalizing than others. 

Shifting in his chair, Jason let out a grunt as his ribs protested the movement. They were still taped up after his escapades last week while his knuckles were a very pretty shade of yellowish-green. He’d long since established a cover of boxing for a hobby, so he wasn’t questioned about them. 

He reached for his tea and paused as a particular note caught his eye. Reading further, he frowned, then reached for the phone. 

“Hey, Lacey. It’s Jason. What’s this about…?” 

The conversation lasted nearly half an hour. By the time he’d hung up the phone, he was already pulling up the company travel site to book a flight. But before he made hotel reservations, he paused and picked up his cellphone. 

Did he really want to do this? After everything that had happened between them, did he really want to try to salvage the remains of his relationship? 

Swiping open the lock screen, the wallpaper revealed his and Tim’s smiling faces and the lights of the Las Vegas strip behind them. Tim had made a mistake, but so had he, even if he downplayed quite how bad it was. Who was he to judge when he’d done the same damn thing? 

Besides, his boyfriend was a commitment-phobe of the highest order, so the fact he’d even admitted to cheating on him said a lot. It wasn’t done to drive him away either—

Tim had been genuinely upset, and even confused as he worked out his feelings over, well, _everything_. He still wasn’t there yet, but it was progress.

Despite it all, Jason still loved him. And that...that said a lot too. 

He let out a slow breath. The ball was in his court now. Before he could second guess himself, he pulled up his contact list and tapped on a name that was still in his favorites list. 

Tim answered on the third ring. “Jason?” 

From his tone, it was clear he hadn’t been expecting a call from him. 

“Hey. So I know this is out of the blue and all, but I’m going to be in San Francisco for work next week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I am fully capable of not writing a cliffhanger every chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for fluff, more fluff, and a dash of hurt/comfort to bind it all together?

“Dude, do you even know how to use that?” 

Tim’s head shot up from the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink, the all-purpose tile cleaner in one hand and a fresh sponge in the other. “Excuse you, who do you think does all the cleaning around here, huh?” 

“Your maid service,” Kon deadpanned. 

“Well, who do you think keeps it up between visits?” 

“The Roomba.” 

“Why am I friends with you again?” 

“Because you need a role model on how to be a good boyfriend.” Kon stuck his tongue out and Tim rolled his eyes as he stood up. 

“Right. Cassie has dumped you how many times now?” 

“Shut up.” 

“I will if you help me spot clean. And check to make sure none of my weapons caches are easily accessed.” 

“I don’t even know where half of them are!” 

“Good. That’s the point.”

* * *

Upon landing in San Francisco, Jason decided he had probably made the wrong decision about staying with Tim for the week-long trip. He was still feeling too raw on the inside, too on edge to keep his darker side under control. 

This was a bad idea. 

A couple of nights, he could probably manage. But after that, he’d make an excuse and book a hotel room. It was the coward’s way out, he knew that. However, he couldn’t see any other option.

Decision made, he approached baggage claim with an outward confidence that belied the storms brewing beneath. These first few visits were going to be awkward as fuck and would make or break their relationship. 

This was fine. It would be okay. Things were going to— 

Jason stopped short as he spotted Tim waiting near the carrousel. The inky black of his hair and pale skin made the blue of his eyes stand out like always. But that wasn’t what captured his attention. 

It was the heavy boot on his foot, and the set of crutches he leaned on. 

Foregoing the crowd waiting for their luggage, Jason detoured over to his boyfriend. “What the fuck did you do?” he said in lieu of an actual greeting. 

Tim’s expression was wryly amused. “I dropped a couch on my foot.”

_“What?”_

“I was holding up an end of it so the Roomba could clean underneath.” 

“Why were you cleaning under your sofa?” 

“Because it was dusty?” 

Jason shook his head as all the uncertainties from earlier were replaced with a strong need to take care of the idiot standing in front of him. Only Tim, seriously. “Right. Well, let me get my suitcase and you can tell me all about it.”

* * *

The story was more amusing than he thought it would be.

“I really didn’t think Kon would be that upset about finding my toy collection,” Tim commented as he led the way out of the airport. “He screamed like a teenage girl.” 

Jason snickered, wondering where the hell they were going. The tram had already passed the parking garage. “Did he at least take you to the hospital or wherever?” 

“Urgent care.” Tim braced himself as the tram came to a stop and announced they were at the BART station. He made to exit, and Jason followed. “The x-rays say it’s broken, so I’ve got the lovely boot and instructions to follow up with an orthopedic specialist this week.” 

“Fun.” He looked around, taking things in. While he’d been to San Francisco a few times before, he’d always rented a car. “Did you take public transit all the way here?” he asked, casting a concerned look over at Tim. 

“Yeah.” The reply was punctuated with a shrug and another of Tim’s crooked little smiles. “Everything in this city already costs an arm and a leg; I don’t need to pay for a parking space on top of it.” 

“You mean you don’t have a car? But I’ve seen you drive.” 

“Just because I don’t own a car doesn’t mean I don’t have a license.” Tim inserted a card into the payment machine. “This is seriously easier than dealing with traffic in or out of the city.” 

“But you just broke your foot yesterday.” 

The look he gave Jason was decidedly unimpressed. “So?” 

“So you should be staying off your feet.” 

“If I didn’t come all the way down here to meet you, then you’d have used my foot as an excuse to find somewhere else to stay while you’re here. Am I wrong?” 

The retort died in Jason’s throat. “No. You’re not.” 

“Then shut up and let me do this. I’m no stranger to crutches.” 

“Fine.”

* * *

By the time they made it back to Tim’s loft, he was kinda wishing his pride hadn’t taken over his common sense. His foot _hurt_ and he knew he’d be spending the evening with it elevated and iced. So much for the dinner he’d been planning to make. Wooing his boyfriend with a home-cooked meal wasn’t happening anymore. 

Jason though seemed impressed with his home. “Wow. This view is awesome.” 

“Definitely worth the payment each month,” Tim agreed, maneuvering around Jason toward the bedroom. The pain meds were in the bathroom. “The kitchen and living room are pretty much one big room,” he called out. “Over here is the guest room that I turned into my office, a half bath, then the master bedroom and the full bath.” 

“Your bedroom has the same view?” Jason let out a low whistle as he followed after him. “Nice.” 

“Thanks. I know this kind of space is just showing off, but I really love being able to see out. You’re lucky today is a clear day.” After all the years of confined spaces and stone walls limiting his vision, being able to see out into the distance did more than therapy ever could.

The pill bottle was on the counter. Tim popped the lid, shook out two, and swallowed them dry. 

Turning, he discovered Jason watching him. “How much pain are you in?” he asked, voice calm. 

“About a seven.” Even with his stupid high pain tolerance, he knew he’d overdone things today. “I just need to elevate it for a bit, get some ice.” 

“In here or the living room?” 

“Living room.” Tim stood up as straight as he could. “You’re sleeping in here.” 

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Like hell. You need to rest.” 

“Which I can do perfectly well from the couch. In fact, it’s easier because then I can put everything I need on the coffee table.” Tim let his voice drop a bit. “I already cleaned and put fresh sheets on the bed for you. Even before this happened, I planned for you to stay in here while I took the couch. I pass out there more often than not anyway.”

“We’ll revisit this later.” There was a firm note to Jason’s voice, indicating that he meant it. 

“Fine. I’ll still win.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I have these.” Tim whacked Jason with one of the crutches as he passed by. “The guy with the crutches always wins.”

* * *

Jason had to admit that Tim’s place was impressive. And it was only four blocks from the Wayne Tech tower, so renting a car would have been a stupid idea anyway. But what got him most was the view. His apartment in Gotham had what he thought was a decent one, but this? He couldn’t stop staring out over the clear sky and the sun shining on the water below. 

A place like this was not cheap. Mentally, he readjusted what he thought to be Tim’s net worth. 

He sat down on the sofa and handed Tim the ice pack he’d put together, as well as a glass of water. His broken foot now rested on some pillows on the coffee table. Unbooted, he could see the bruising and the indentation from where the sofa met bone. Any thoughts he might have entertained about Tim possibly faking it to play the sympathy card vanished. This was real. 

“Do you have an orthopedic lined up yet?” Jason asked. 

“Bart has a good one,” Tim replied. “I’ll call and set up an appointment in the morning.” 

“Will you need surgery?” 

“Not sure yet. Won’t know until the doctors do their thing.” 

Nodding, Jason’s gaze flickered from Tim’s foot, to his face, then out the window. Now that the idle conversation was dying down, the awkwardness was settling back in. But he didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he had when he got off the plane. This was… this was uncertainty tempered by having something to do. Someone to care for. 

And never let it be said that Jason Todd didn’t take care of what was his. 

“What did you have planned for dinner?” he asked when the silence dragged on.

“I was going to cook,” Tim replied, catching his eye and offering a small smile. “I found something during one of my YouTube trawls that I thought we’d both like and got everything for it.” 

“Oh?” Food was a safe topic. He could do that. Cooking was something he enjoyed, even if Antigone was his sole critic more often than not. Having a real person to share this particular skill with was even better. Shifting, Jason pulled his phone from his pocket. “Show me.”

* * *

Watching Jason move about the kitchen was mesmerizing. Tim hauled himself from the couch to the kitchen counter, foot propped up on one of the stools, when he started. The video was paused on the tablet he’d left propped open while he prepared the batter.

It was easy. Fun even. This was what Tim wanted to recapture when he went grocery shopping yesterday morning before his delightful idea to clean under the furniture went sideways. The conversation wasn’t very deep, but they were talking, which was more than he’d hoped for. 

“The first time I had okonomiyaki was at this little place in Osaka,” Jason was saying as he chopped the cabbage into thin shreds. “I’d never had it before, but after? I was hooked.” 

“I’ve never been to Japan.” 

Jason looked up in surprise. “Really? A nerd like you?” 

Tim grinned. “It’s on my list. Work and a certain someone have had me distracted lately.” 

“Boo-fucking-hoo. You’ve got a Japantown here, right?” 

“Yep. Although the best ramen place is over on the west end of Golden Gate Park, at least in my opinion.”

“We’ll have to check it out sometime then.” 

Such a simple statement should not make him so happy, but it did. It gave him hope that they could move beyond their recent fuck-ups to recapture what they’d had before. Tim hadn’t realized just how much he wanted this relationship to work. The thought of losing Jason was almost more than he could bear.

The possessiveness should have been his first clue. 

He supposed he could be forgiven for missing that. It wasn’t like he was a detective.

* * *

By Monday evening, Jason decided he liked working in San Francisco. The labs were newer than the ones in Gotham and most people forgot or didn’t know there was a Wayne tacked on to his last name. Many of the people he interacted with were also in the same age bracket, which was a damn sight better than dealing with all the old farts back home. 

Stepping out of Wayne Tech, he discovered Tim perched on a bench in front of the building. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Getting some fresh air.”

“You shouldn’t be putting weight on that foot.” 

Tim brushed his admonishments aside. “I’m not. I know how to use crutches, remember?”

“Yeah, you’ve wacked me with them a few times already.” 

The cheeky grin was enough to make Jason reach out and ruffle Tim’s hair. It was the first time either of them had voluntarily touched each other since he arrived. By the way Tim’s eyes widened, that little epiphany wasn’t limited to him alone. 

Jesus, it was just a single touch. It shouldn’t mean that much, but it did. 

Still, because he wasn’t a complete asshole, Jason helped Tim to his feet, offering a steadying hand until the crutches were firmly in place. “You make that appointment?” he asked as they started walking down the street. 

“I did. Wednesday morning, nine fifteen a.m.” 

“Are you even capable of waking up that early?” 

Tim smacked him with a crutch. “It’s called an alarm clock.” 

“The timer on the coffeepot doesn’t count.” 

“It totally does.” 

They bickered easily like this for nearly two blocks before Tim veered into a small bakery Jason hadn’t even realized was there. The place was packed, but he deftly wove through the crowd to take a number.

“Why are we here?” he asked, taking in the display cases full of some of the most amazing creations he’d ever seen. 

“Because I made dinner for tonight and we need dessert.” 

Jason glared down at Tim. “You’re not supposed to be standing more than you absolutely have to.” 

“I made linguine and clams. Or I will when we get home because I still have to cook the pasta.” 

His mouth watered. “How dare you use one of my favorite dishes against me?” 

“All’s fair in love and war,” Tim winked as his number was called. “Now, what do you want?” 

It was on the tip of Jason’s tongue to say _just you._

* * *

Wednesday morning, Tim woke up to Jason’s puttering around in the kitchen. Despite the jokes about him being a heavy sleeper, that was far from the case. Years of living with the League of Assassins taught him the importance of sleeping with one eye open and that habit hadn’t dissipated since his escape. But there was a certain element of fun to being considered a very heavy sleeper. 

Like now. 

Jason peered over the back of the couch, a coffee mug in each hand. “Wakey, wakey.” 

Tim yawned and arched his back as he stretched. He didn’t miss the way Jason’s eyes darkened briefly. The last few days had been hell, keeping his hands to himself. But he was determined not to fuck this up any more than he already had. The fact that Jason was still here, standing over him with a cup of coffee perfectly doctored to his taste, spoke volumes. 

“One of those for me?” 

“Only if you sit up.” 

Sitting up allowed his blanket to pool at his waist, which he knew would also draw Jason’s eye. Carefully, he swung his left foot to the floor and shifted around so that he was fully upright. 

Jason leaned over to hand him the coffee. “Eggs and toast?” he asked. “Or are you gonna wait until after your appointment to eat something?” 

Tim and breakfast were passing acquaintances. He’d eat if he was hungry, but more often, he didn’t touch anything until lunch. “Just some toast,” he decided. “If I want more, there’s that bagel shop just down the street.” 

“Is that the one with the breakfast burritos?” 

“Yeah.” He craned his neck to give Jason a surprised look. “How’d you know?” 

“People were talking about it at the office.” 

“If you ever need to make friends quickly, order one of their breakfast platters. They’ll be putty in your hands in no time.” 

“Noted.” 

Jason returned to the kitchen for a few minutes, giving Tim some time to savor his coffee. Not to sound like a sap, but it somehow tasted better whenever his boyfriend made it. Okay, it was totally a sappy thought, but he savored it and the coffee equally. 

Because Jason was still here. He didn’t have to be, but here he was. Tim could only hope it meant he was trying as hard as he was to salvage what they’d had. For as long as he tried, he would too. He refused to be the one to give up first. 

When he returned, Jason sat beside him and handed over a plate of toast slathered with cream cheese. He then tucked into his own food. 

Tim leaned over slightly. “Is that eggs in a hole?” 

“Yeah. Can’t pass up the opportunity with all the good sourdough here.” Jason held up his fork. A small piece of runny egg dripped down the pan toasted bread. “Want a bite?” 

“Yes.” 

There was nothing sensuous or electrifying about eating from Jason’s fork. But it did all kinds of things to Tim’s guts because this was the closest they’d been since he arrived. 

Ugh. This whole being honest thing _sucked_. 

Before he could be shoved away, Tim returned to his seat and wrapped both hands around his coffee. The toast remained in his lap. This was torture, that’s what it was. Pure and utter torture. But he’ll be damned if he fucked up again.

“Do you need me to come with for your appointment?” Jason asked, drawing Tim from his thoughts. “How far is it?” 

“No, and not very,” Tim answered. “I’m getting a Lyft, so no one can bitch at me about walking.” 

“Good.” Jason popped his last forkful into his mouth. “Eat your toast,” he said with a light nudge. “That had better be gone by the time I’m done getting dressed.” 

“Or what?” Tim challenged, arching a brow. 

“Or else I’ll put all your coffee on top of the fridge.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Jason drew in so close their noses almost touched. “Try me,” he whispered.

Fuck the toast, all Tim wanted in that moment was to steal a kiss.

* * *

When his cellphone rang a few hours later, Jason was quick to answer it despite the fact he was in the middle of a meeting. 

“Excuse me a moment,” he said, stepping away from the conference table. “Hey,” he greeted Tim when he was out in the hall. “How’d it go?” 

“No surgery,” Tim stated with obvious relief. “Just a clean fracture. Got poked and prodded, and had some adjustments made to my boot. I come back in three weeks for another set of x-rays. Until then, I’m 100% on crutches. No weight bearing at all.” 

That sounded about right from what Jason recalled when Bruce broke his foot. Except his grumpy ass had needed surgery and he refused until it became really obvious the bone was healing the wrong way. Idiot. 

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. You on your way home?”

“Yeah, just waiting on my ride.” 

“I’ll pick up dinner then. No surgery means we should celebrate a bit.” 

“Sushi?” Tim’s voice was eager at the prospect. As far as he was concerned, sushi belonged in its own food group. 

Jason’s smile was fond. “Sure. Text me later with where I should go. I’ve seen like five places on the way here from your loft. Something tells me you’ve been to all of them.”

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve only _been_ to three of them. I ordered take-out from the other two.”

* * *

Friday arrived. The day Tim both welcomed and dreaded because it meant Jason was leaving the next morning. 

This was the longest amount of time they’d ever spent together, and definitely broke the record for the least amount of touching. He could count on one hand the number of times Jason had touched him this week, even on accident. It was enough to drive a man insane. And definitely made it hard to concentrate on work. 

The last thing Tim wanted to listen to was a conference call about supply chains. He wasn’t even needed; he was just a blip on the screen, a silent presence to add weight to whatever it was Cassie was saying. Just like she ran their team, she was in charge here too. 

She even had the job title for it, so fuck the bastard who refused to take her word for anything. 

He messaged Cassie privately. 

_Tim: Contracts be damned. We’re finding a new company to partner with. This guy is a tool._

_Cassie: I was hoping you’d say that. I’m on it._

Off to the side, a flash from his phone caught Tim’s eye. His security code had just been used to enter the building. Or rather, it was the guest one he’d given to Jason. Glancing at the clock, it was just after two in the afternoon. What was he doing home early? 

The answer wasn’t long in coming as Jason keyed in the entry code on Tim’s front door. Almost immediately, he poked his head into the office. 

Tim muted the call. “Hey, what’s up? I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of hours.” 

“Wrapped up early and made my escape while I could. Did you eat lunch?” 

“Sorta?” He gestured to the remains of a sandwich plate teetering rather precariously on a stack of files. 

“That doesn’t count. I got pho for us. And the spring rolls looked really good, so I ordered some of those too.” 

Tim’s mouth watered. “I’ll be out as soon as I wrap this up.” 

“Deal.” 

It took another twenty minutes to finish the call. When he hung up, he flung his headset at the monitor. 

_Tim: I’m done for the day. Jason brought food and I’m not letting it go to waste._

_Cassie: Get out of here. Kon and I will be over tomorrow afternoon to help you with laundry._

_Tim: You guys are the best. If you need me for anything, text me._

Shoving away from his desk, he reached for his crutches and made his way into the living room. 

Jason hadn’t started eating yet. Instead, he’d unpacked everything and set out plates and bowls, arranging everything all nice and neat like they were eating out instead of dining in. 

“Bored?” Tim asked as he approached. 

“Figured I’d kill some time.” Jason looked up from messing around with the Thai basil, somewhat sheepishly. “Might have gone overboard.” 

“This is why I have a dishwasher.” 

“I still can’t believe you use that when you’re the only one here to make a mess.”

“I hate doing dishes!” 

It was a new argument that had developed between them over the course of the week. Jason apparently did all his dishes by hand, only ever using his dishwasher when he had company. Tim was the complete opposite and used his all the time. 

Yet another little thing to be documented in his constantly growing file that was Jason. Tim was observant, which he had to be, in his line of work. And while Jason wasn’t work, he was someone he deeply cared about and wanted to make happy. 

“You just taking a break or are you callin’ it quits?” Jason asked as he passed over Tim’s bowl of pho. 

“Done for the day. That last call pissed me off. I might have accidentally given Cassie more work, but I’ll make it up to her tomorrow.” 

“Oh?” 

Tim launched into an abbreviated version of the call he’d just wasted an hour of his life on. “I plan to distract myself by finding a new vendor after you…leave.” 

Jason offered a soft smile. “If it helps at all, I took the rest of the afternoon off so we could spend some time together before I left. We haven’t been out all week, aside from work and your doctor appointment.” 

His heart just about beat right out of his chest and Tim knew he was beaming like an idiot. “I’d like that. We could go to the movies? I don’t think we’ve ever done that before.” 

He knew they hadn’t. The only movies they’d ever seen together were in hotel rooms, basking in the afterglow or using it as an excuse to cuddle, which would then lead to other things. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. And you’ll be able to stay off your foot too.” 

“You’re not my mother,” Tim muttered, picking up his phone to see what was playing. To his surprise, it started ringing almost instantly, which had him fumbling for a second before he answered. “Hello?” 

“Hello!” greeted a cheerful voice. “This is Sam from Dr. Amin’s office…”

Tim’s stomach hit the floor. This was his primary care doctor’s office, the one he’d gone to before that agonizing phone call with Jason. The one he’d gone to for one of the most embarrassing appointments of his life. While he knew he was clean, and he was pretty sure the Red Hood was, the story he’d fed Jason pretty much dictated he go and get tested. 

The more he thought about it afterward, the more he realized it _was_ a good idea. He knew jack shit about Hood’s medical history and while the man had said he was in a relationship, it didn’t mean he might not know there was something going on. 

By the time the call ended, Tim felt a lot better. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Have a good weekend,” he said, hanging up. 

Jason gave him a quizzical look. “What was that about?” 

Tim took a deep breath. Not a single word about what had happened had passed between them the entire week. That was all about to change. 

“That was my regular doctor’s office,” he said, keeping his voice level even if he had a death grip on his chopsticks. “The results of my blood panel and… other tests… came back in.” 

Jason lowered his spoon, his expression turning grave. “And?” 

“I’m clean,” Tim announced, a weight lifting from his shoulders as he said the words. “I had them do a full work up and—”

He was cut off as Jason reached for him and yanked him into a hug, pressing his face into Tim’s hair. 

“Thank fucking god,” he breathed. “Thank you for doing that. I didn’t want to nag—you’re an adult, but… I was worried.” 

Tim wrapped his arms around Jason and held on, burying his face into the strong shoulder he’d spent many a night using as a pillow. “I’m sorry,” he said, choking on the words. They weren’t what he’d planned to say, but they… they felt right. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not entirely your fault,” Jason said, stroking his hair. “I fucked up too.” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t go out and have sex with a perfect stra—” Tim was cut off by Jason capturing his lips with his own, kissing him with a fervor and desperation he’d never experienced before. 

“Don’t say it,” Jason whispered. “Don’t.” 

“Jay…” 

The hand in his hair tightened. “I am not sharing you with anyone else, got it?” 

“That works both ways,” Tim murmured, nipping at the skin of Jason’s throat. “You good with that?”

“Yeah. I am.” 

* * *

When Jason arrived home Saturday afternoon, he found a text waiting for him on one of his burner phones, timestamped from the night before. It was the one he’d given Wraith the number to.

The message was from a number with an area code out of Iowa of all places—Jason knew right away it wasn’t real. 

What it said, however, was rather surprising.

_W: If I had to subject myself to one of the most humiliating medical exams of my entire life, you sure as fuck should too. I’m clean by the way._

Shit. 

With everything that had happened with Tim, he hadn’t even spared the thought to remember that he’d fucked Wraith bare. Goddammit. 

He glanced at the clock. If he left now, he could probably sneak into Doc Thompkin’s office to get the lecture of a lifetime, as well as whatever else she wanted to put him through. It fucking sucked, but he owed it not only to Wraith, but also to Tim for when they eventually fell back into bed together.

Which they would if the way last night went was any indication. After their date night, they’d shared Tim’s bed for the first time, falling asleep on opposite sides out of consideration for his foot, but waking up curled against each other. 

It was the best sleep he’d had since the massive fuck-up in Chicago. 

Picking up the phone, Jason tapped out a reply. 

_H: Thanks for the reminder. I’ve been a bit distracted lately, but I’ll get on it right away._

He sent the message, then thought a moment before sending another. 

_H: I’m sorry for having to put you through that._

A few hours later when he got home, there was a reply waiting for him. 

_W: It takes two to tango._

Yeah, it sure did.


	7. Chapter 7

“What d’ya want to do for dinner tonight?” Jason asked, sitting down beside Tim on the couch. He’d barely walked through the door and still looked all kinds of delectable in his business suit.

When the hell did a suit and tie become a turn on for him? Probably the moment he saw them on Jason, that’s when.

Tim closed his laptop, wishing he could put the damper on his libido just as easily. They might be sharing a bed again, but that didn’t mean any of the fun stuff was on the table yet. “I’m open to suggestions."

Jason cast him a questioning look. “You do know what today is, right?”

“Wednesday?”

“You’re impossible.” The man reached into his jacket to retrieve his phone and tapped at the screen to reveal the date and time.

The date. Oh.

Tim hung his head, already feeling the heat in his ears as he realized he’d done it again. “In my defense, I don’t really pay attention to birthdays. Haven’t since my parents died.”

“I’d think your friends would have said something?"

“They did mention getting together this weekend after you left. And not wanting to intrude.”

Which was really nice since he loved having Jason back in San Francisco for work. Thanks to the project he was overseeing, he’d be here at least once a month for the next three to four months. Tim was more than fine with this; it wasn’t like he’d be able to take any assignments while he still had the boot on his broken foot, not to mention dealing with physical therapy after. The restrictions were chafing, but he was dealing with it.

Jason leaned in to press a soft kiss to Tim’s forehead. The gesture had him melting inside. “That’s nice of them, but I don’t mind sharing. I was hoping to meet them at some point. You talk about them enough.”

Tim laid his head against Jason’s shoulder. “If I tell them that, they’ll storm this place and never leave. They’re dying to meet you.”

“See if they’re doing anything tonight and we can go out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. How bad can they be?”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

Dinner that night was a small sushi restaurant that sat maybe ten people. Jason was looking forward to meeting Tim’s friends, adding more pieces into the ever-growing puzzle that was his boyfriend.

A stocky man with short black hair was the first to stand when he and Tim entered the restaurant. “About damned time,” he announced, holding out his hand. “We were starting to think you were a myth.”

Jason accepted the firm grip with one of his own. “You must be Kon. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Kon turned and gestured to the blonde woman who also rose to her feet. “This is Cassie. Tim might be in charge on paper, but she’s the one who keeps us all in line.”

“The true mastermind.” Jason grinned while Cassie laughed. 

“There are some days where I swear I don’t get paid enough to wrangle these idiots.” 

Tim snorted. “If it was just about the money, you’d have abandoned us long ago.” 

Snickering, Bart hopped off the high-backed chair and pumped Jason’s hand with obvious excitement. “I told them you were real. But Kon thought you were just an actor Tim hired to play his boyfriend when we met in Vegas.”

“Hey!” Kon’s cheeks blazed and Tim laughed. 

“Okay, guys. Let’s get this sausage fest—I mean birthday party—started.” Cassie resumed her seat and the rest of them took the hint.

It didn’t take long for Jason to decide he liked Tim’s friends. There was a sense of comradery between the four of them that went deeper than any friendship. They’d been together through thick and thin and came out on top together. 

And despite all of that, they didn’t make him feel like an outsider. He was welcomed with open arms and so many goddamn stories about Tim that had him laughing and shaking his head in amazement more than once. He really was a walking disaster sometimes.

“He’s done this how many times now?” Jason asked, casting an incredulous look at his boyfriend. He and Tim were seated in the two seats at the sushi bar that wrapped around the counter, him against the wall and the shorter man on the corner. 

“Four?” Bart looked to Cassie for confirmation, who nodded firmly. 

“At least.”

“They’re just not important to me,” Tim muttered into his sake.

“And yet, here we are, celebrating one because this is the first time Jason’s been around.” Kon raised his beer bottle in a toast. “So happy birthday to you, dude. And next month when he’s here, we’ll all go out to celebrate Jason’s birthday, since he’s clearly your better half and pays attention to the damned calendar.”

* * *

That night as they got ready for bed, both of them were more than a bit buzzed from all the beer and sake. Tim felt a tingly warmth throughout his body that told him he was just one step away from being drunk. 

He dropped heavily onto what he’d claimed as his side of the bed and leaned over to unstrap the heavy boot from his foot. Three more weeks and the orthopedic doctor would consider letting him leave it off for good. It couldn’t happen soon enough. He’d already had to pass on one promising assignment because of the damned thing and there would no doubt be another before he was back up and running.

Broken bones sucked.

“Had fun?” Jason asked, dragging a cold water bottle along Tim’s bare arm once his foot was properly wrapped for the night.

“Yeah. You?” He snatched it away and cracked it open, gulping a few mouthfuls before setting it aside on the nightstand.

“It was—insightful.” The larger man sat down on his side of the bed and took a few swigs from his water. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Jason paused, capping his water then setting it aside. “Why aren’t you and Kon dating?” 

Tim let out a slow breath. Damn. “You picked up on that, huh?” 

It was never a secret, really. Kon had been the one to find him, to _befriend_ him for no other reason than that Tim needed a friend. And that—that meant more to him than his best friend would ever know. 

“It’s subtle, but I know how you look at me and some of those same looks were definitely shot in his direction.” Jason didn’t sound upset, just curious. 

“Kon is straighter than an arrow,” Tim explained. “And has been in an on and off again relationship with Cassie for nearly as long as I’ve known him. There was never a point in trying. Besides,” he shifted around to give Jason a long and level stare, “you’re twice as hot as he is.”

“Really?” The corner of Jason’s mouth trembled under the effort to contain his smile. “You don’t say.”

Tim hummed in agreement. “Uh-huh. And he can’t make his pecs jiggle like you can.”

A pillow whipped around to smack his face hard. “That was _last year_ , numbnuts.” 

“What was your excuse again? A Captain America phase?” 

“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.” 

On impulse, Tim rolled around to grab Jason by the waist and tug him down onto the bed. They wrestled briefly, laughing and grunting when an elbow went a little wild. But it wasn’t long before Tim had his boyfriend where he wanted him—flat on his back with his undershirt yanked up to his armpits revealing the thick muscles of his upper body. 

Before Jason could say anything, Tim smooshed his pectorals together and buried his face between them. 

“Oh my god, are you trying to motorboat me?” 

Tim raised his head enough to plant his chin on Jason’s sternum. “Maybe? I haven’t actually done this before.” 

“You look ridiculous.” 

“Well, duh. If you hadn’t decided to stop packing all that extra muscle, this would be a lot more fun.” 

Jason smacked him with the pillow again.

* * *

The next morning, Tim woke slowly to sensations of warmth and pleasure he hadn’t felt in months. In his sleepy fugue, he could almost believe it was Jason’s mouth around his cock, waking him up with slow, teasing strokes of his tongue. Stretching lazily, he reached down to palm his dick, only to be blocked by a head of thick hair. 

What? 

Opening his eyes, he met Jason’s laughing ones. “Huh?” Tim managed to garble intelligently.

Jason placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his straining cock. “It’s called a birthday blowjob. Shoulda given it to you yesterday, but I was in a rush to get out the door. Happy birthday, Timmy.” 

Tim groaned and buried his fingers in Jason’s hair as the man went about his self-appointed task of driving him utterly insane. Birthday blowjobs, huh? He made a mental note to revisit the topic next month. For now, this one was just for him. 

* * *

It was during his fourth trip to San Francisco that Jason decided it was time to stop punishing himself for the fuck up with Wraith. He still didn’t blame Tim for what he’d done. Shit, he’d been the one to drive him to it. That was on him, even if Tim said otherwise. 

But it was clear that his boyfriend wasn’t about to make the first move and was leaving it up to him because he was a martyr too. So he would. The question was, how? 

The idea came to him in the shower. It was brilliantly simple. 

Taking extra care to wash up, Jason completed his normal nightly routine. But instead of putting on the t-shirt and pajama pants he’d taken to wearing to bed, he walked out of the bathroom without a stitch on. 

Tim, engrossed with something on his tablet, didn’t even look up. 

Typical. 

Seeing it as a challenge, Jason slipped into bed beside him, rolling onto his side to face the other man. “Is that anything time sensitive?” he asked with a teasing note. 

“It is if Bart beats me to the next level,” came Tim’s peevish reply. 

A game then. Go figure. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

Tim glanced over, readying what was no doubt zinger of a retort that spluttered out to die an ignominious death as he took in the sight of Jason’s utterly naked body. The tablet dropped to his lap. “Jay?” he whispered. “What…I mean…Umm…” 

The loss of words was a massive stroke to Jason’s ego. “Your foot’s all healed up and you’re done with PT. I figured it was time.” 

“Are you sure?” Tim’s eyes raked across him, hot and devouring. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now ditch Bart and get your ass over here.”

* * *

It was everything Tim had missed. The magnetism, the rush, the heat, he fell on Jason like a starving man. Months of denial had them both finishing fast, but they were up for round two nearly as quickly. 

Tim bounced on Jason’s cock like a man possessed while Jason’s large fingers buried themselves into his hips hard enough to bruise. It was glorious. It was perfect. It was… 

Nothing like the last time he’d been fucked. 

Dammit. 

That night as Jason quietly snored beside him, Tim realized what the problem was. It wasn’t his partner at all. It was him. 

Jason was perfect. Attentive, loving, and gave him the nailing he more than needed. He was still feeling the ache and it was wonderful. 

But he was missing something. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what. 

The fire. The unbridled passion that came after an adrenaline rush and a brush with danger. Everything he’d had with the Red Hood was now lacking in his relationship with Jason. 

What the fuck had happened? This was supposed to be a time to celebrate. They were _together_ again, in every way possible. Or rather, in every way possible for the current state of their relationship. Tim huffed quietly and looked over at the man sleeping beside him. 

There was nothing wrong with Jason. He was everything he could want. 

So why did he want more?

* * *

On the way to work the next morning, Jason wondered what the hell went wrong last night. 

Tim had been into it, there was no mistaking that. And he was too. Fuck, it had been a dream to have the other man writhing in his lap like that for months now. But the entire time he’d been fucking Tim, it was another face, another body that he was drilling into. One who didn’t mind a little bruising or if things got rough. 

A man whose identity was concealed beneath a mask. 

God _dammit._

This was wrong. He didn’t want Wraith, not like how he wanted Tim. Tim was perfect in his kooky, quirky way. Jason had no doubt that if they could just get through this, it was entirely possible for him to hang up the hood and walk away from a life of intrigue, murder, and way-too-sexy rivals forever. He wanted Tim and no one else. 

Right?

* * *

Tim ended up passing on two assignments before he was back to 100%. By the time Jason left, his project finally wrapped up so who the hell knew when they’d see each other again, he was more than ready to shoot something. 

Or someone. 

“About time,” Kon said when Tim made that particular announcement. 

“Excuse you. I don’t remember you racing over to help me.” His eyes narrowed. “In fact, weren’t you standing there laughing?” 

“Hey, I did my best friend duty.” Kon held his hands up in protest. “I took your ass to urgent care.” 

Cassie walked over to the table and took a seat. “Okay, children. If you’re done playing, it’s time to get to work.” 

Finally. 

Tim leaned forward with an eagerness that was only half-feigned. “Lay it on me.”

* * *

The assignment wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting. Rather than a simple break in and put down, he’d had to stage the murder to look like a suicide. It introduced another element of planning that he didn’t mind—a challenge was a challenge and he hated to be typecast as just a sniper. 

Still, as Tim kicked the chair out from under the man and watched him hang from the rafters, he really wished he could just shoot the guy. His fingers itched to pull a trigger. But there was more to it than that. He felt _off_ and was pissed that he couldn’t figure out why. 

A familiar ringtone rang as the last gurgle cut off. Dammit. Jason’s sense of timing sucked. 

Tapping the comm in his ear, Tim switched over. “Hey, what’s up?” 

“Nothing much. Just wanted to give you the dates for my next trip.” 

“I thought your project was complete?” It had been one of the reasons why he’d taken this assignment—no chance of overlapping. 

“They want me there for the presentation to all the big wigs.” 

“Wayne Tech sure loves spending money on flights for you.” 

“They’re lovin’ the money they’re saving by not having to pay for a hotel room.” Jason chuckled. “Although I did get questioned why I submitted a grocery store receipt on my expense report.” 

“That wasn’t the night we stuffed ourselves stupid on crab, was it?” 

“No, it was the one where I grilled up those steaks.” 

Tim’s mouth watered at the memory. Not just because of the food, but because of what happened later. “Those were good steaks.” 

“Damn right they were.” 

They chatted for another couple of minutes before Jason signed off. It was late on this side of the country already and he had work in the morning. Surprisingly, it didn’t pain Tim that he was only a short drive away, maybe an hour at most from Gotham’s city limits. 

Which was wrong, wasn’t it? He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then did it again. 

Yup, he still wasn’t exactly missing his boyfriend. Dammit. 

Tim glared at the dead man hanging from the ceiling. “I need a drink. Got any recommendations?” 

He just hung there, silent as the grave. 

“Didn’t think so.” 

* * *

A couple hours later, he stared morosely into the watered-down whiskey sour he’d ordered at the hotel bar. Rather than riding the high of a job well done, he was in a mood sourer than his drink. He’d finally figured out what had been bothering him while he was working. 

It was the Red Hood. He’d been a no-show tonight, which wasn’t entirely unexpected. Aside from the brief exchange of messages a few months ago, it had been radio silence between them. Which was as it should be. Really. 

They’d fucked. Once. That was all. He didn’t need Hood standing over his shoulder offering pointers. If anything, that was his job because it would piss Hood off and get him all riled up and then— 

God _dammit_. This sucked. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Nope, he wasn’t, he was just going to sit here and finish his drink and— Before Tim could stop himself, he took his work phone from his pocket and tapped in a message. 

_W: I take it that since you got what you wanted, where my work takes me is no longer of interest to you?_

As soon as the message was sent, he wanted to bang his head into the dull luster of the bar. What the hell was wrong with him, sending what amounted to a whiney text demanding attention? The answer was plenty, but it still didn’t explain what he was doing or why. Before he’d met Hood—or Jason for that matter—he had always been in control of what he did. His life was his own now and no one dictated his decisions. 

So why did he feel like things were spiraling the more he thought about either man? Tim knocked back the rest of his drink and gestured for another. Perhaps the answers could be found in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. 

The phone buzzed with a reply just as the bartender placed a new drink on the bar in front of him. 

_H: Who says I got what I wanted? Figured some space was a good idea for now._

That made Tim grin. He hadn’t been forgotten after all. 

_W: I’m debating about getting drunk in a hotel bar._

_H: Why?_

_W: Because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what the fuck he wants._

It was more honest than he wanted to be, but who else could he have this discussion with? His friends were the most fantastic beings under the sun and helped him more than they could ever know. But they weren’t the ones out here in the field. They weren’t the ones who made those snap decisions and rolled with the punches. 

Hood knew what it was like. 

_H: Where are you?_

Tim’s lips curled upward again. _W: You’re going to laugh._

_H: Try me._

_W: Wilmington, DE_

There was a long pause. _H: That’s maybe an hour away from Gotham._

Boy, did he know it. 

Another text came in. _H: If you’re still sober enough to drive, I know a little beach where we can meet up. Shoot the shit or whatever else you happen to have with you._

Tim’s breath caught. Was this…? No, it was not a date. It was a meeting. It was reconnaissance to try to get into the Batman’s head. It was…fuck it, it was just two guys on a beach in the middle of the night blowing holes into things for the sake of it. 

_W: That sounds fucking fantastic._

* * *

Jason lowered the work phone he’d designated solely for Wraith. Fuck, what the hell did he just do? He had a million different reasons for why this was a bad idea, up to and including the fact he had to be out the door no later than eight a.m. for a conference call with his colleagues in London and… 

And he really wanted to see Wraith. Wanted to throttle him, shoot him, fuck him, the whole nine yards. 

Knuckling his eyes, he did the only thing he could think of. 

Called Steph. 

“What did you do?” she asked on the third ring. 

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because you only call this late when you’ve done something stupid.” 

“I haven’t. Yet.” 

“Yet,” she repeated. “What’s going on?” 

Jason was pretty sure his tongue tripped over itself as he explained what he was about to do. “I can’t help it, Blondie. Wraith is…he’s like a drug I can’t get enough of. I love Tim, I know I do, so why the fuck am I feeling like this?” 

Steph let out a sad sigh. “Jay, I wish I had an answer for you. But something tells me that you and Wraith need to have a serious talk. One where you keep your pants on too.” 

“So I should go shooting with him?” 

“Yeah, honey. I think you should. Just don’t shoot _him_ , got it?” 

“Only if he does first.”

* * *

The secluded parking lot Tim pulled into an hour later was exactly as Hood described it. Small, remote, and lit by a single streetlight that cast a yellowy glow across a worn-out sign reminding people not to litter. Off to the right, in the last parking spot before the pavement gave way to mottled turf, sat an old Impala that had seen better days. 

Stepping out of his borrowed car, he adjusted the knit cap over his cowl. Beneath his clothes was the new set of body armor Cassie had ordered for him. He still didn’t care for it, but he couldn’t deny that it worked. 

The night air was cool with a stiff breeze blowing off the water. Tim walked past the sign and the cement picnic table on its slab, following a narrow path down to the sand below. 

On the edge of the light, looking out over the water, stood the Red Hood. 

He came to a stop beside him, just out of reach of his longer arms. “Hi,” he said simply. “I didn’t think you’d actually be here.” 

“I’m a man of my word.” Hood shrugged. “Besides, I kinda figured we needed to talk. Text only goes so far and I wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind… after.” 

After. Such a loaded word. 

“Yeah.” Tim rolled his shoulders and sighed. “What did you tell your partner?” 

“Not as much as I should have. It’s… complicated.” 

“No shit.” Even just standing at his side, Tim could feel the same pull that he’d always felt around from the man. 

“You?” 

“I wanted to lie to him,” he replied with a torrent of words. “I was going to lie to him. I thought that if I told him, then it would be over between us.” 

“Is it?” 

“No.” Tim shook his head slowly. “I don’t fucking know why, but it’s not.” 

“I didn’t tell my partner the whole truth.” Hood’s chin dropped as he lost the usual tall and proud stance. “I had a chance to tell him and I—I lied to him. Some other shit happened between us too and I know he’s trying to make up for it, but I just… I feel like I’m not good enough for him. That I’m a lying sack of shit for what I did.” 

Tim stared out over the water and the gently lapping waves. “Wanna shoot something?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

From the hidden compartment in the trunk of his car, Jason retrieved a duffel bag full of guns and ammo. Across the parking lot, Wraith retrieved several brown paper bags from the backseat of what was likely a stolen car. 

“Cantaloupe?” he asked when rummaging through a bag a few minutes later. 

“Figured it’d be dark,” Wraith offered. “And the lenses in our masks only do so much. “Besides, at least this kind of waste is biodegradable.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Silencers in place, they took turns tossing the melons into air across the sand and pulverizing them. It was therapeutic. It was cathartic. It made Jason realize just how damn good Wraith looked while shooting a gun. 

Fucking hell. 

“This isn’t helping,” he finally said after the sixth melon exploded in mid-air. 

“Nope,” Wraith agreed, much to his surprise. “I still want to fuck you.” 

Jason choked, not expecting the other man’s thoughts to be so parallel to his own. “Same. And I don’t fucking know why, which is pissing me off.” 

Wraith chucked another melon into the air and Jason picked it off in one smooth and easy move. 

“I think I know,” the former League assassin replied. 

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” 

“It’s because we really are idiots. I came out here hoping you might be able to give me some advice for how to maintain my civilian relationship and here you are in the same boat as me. We’re attracted to each other, not because of the danger, but because we know the other person _gets it._ And our partners—they don’t. Probably never can.” 

He wasn’t wrong. At all. 

Sighing, Jason lowered his gun. “Batman told me once that he thinks I can make a go at being a normal person with a normal life.” 

“Did he?” 

“Yeah. There’s just one problem with that.” 

“You can’t give this up.” 

“No.” 

Wraith threw a melon high into the air and shot it all in one disgustingly graceful move. The chunks of orange flesh sprayed out over the sand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m actually curious, but… Do you think your partner is the right guy then? The one you want to be with forever?” 

Jason snorted. “Are you askin’ me if I believe in true love?” 

“Am I?” Wraith sounded genuinely confused. “I’ve never been in love before. But even I know that I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do about you if I’m honestly in love with him. The way I see it, something has to give.” 

“You’re not entirely wrong with that logic,” Jason acknowledged, then sighed hard. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if we were both single.” 

“Or didn’t kill people.” Wraith punctuated the statement by tossing another cantaloupe into the air and Jason raised his gun, easily blowing it to pieces. 

“What about you?” he asked, casting a questioning look that the other man wouldn’t see. “Have you ever thought about giving this up?” 

Wraith was silent for a time, gathering his thoughts. “I have. Especially of late because an injury kept me from getting out. I’ve spent a lot of time with my boyfriend trying to repair our relationship and I have to admit, I’m happy with how that’s turned out. But the sheer and utter mundanity of, well, _everything else_ , is driving me up the goddammed wall. When I had the chance to take this assignment, I grabbed it and ran.” 

Jason frowned as a little flash of insight struck. “You don’t have anyone on your team besides you who does fieldwork, do you? No one to practice with or spar or any of the other things you need to keep yourself sharp.” 

The other man’s head whipped up so damned fast that Jason knew he’d hit the nail right on the head. “How the hell did you figure that out?” 

“The desperation. The need for a challenge.” Beneath his hood, he smirked. “The need to prove you’re the best.” 

“I haven’t had a real sparring partner since I left the League.” 

“You should come work for us.” The words were out of Jason’s mouth before he could think them through. But he meant every single one. “We’re no strangers to the League of Assassins. Batman even trained under Ra’s a few decades ago before he gave him the finger. It’d be good for you.” 

Wraith looked away, out over the dark water. “I don’t doubt it.” 

“Take some time and think it over,” Jason said, leaning over to pick up another cantaloupe. “This isn’t a one time offer.” 

“Wouldn’t it make things that much more complicated between us, though?” 

“Probably. But I think it would also give us some answers we really need.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now that I've thrown _that_ particular wrench into the works, I wonder what will happen next? Oh no, could it be... a team up?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I don't normally do this mid-fic, but note the change in the tags and that I've added the Graphic Violence archive warning to the fic. This chapter is the start of something dark and deep that will carry on into the next chapter. However! I promise there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

Jason stood at the conference table in the cave staring down at a series of aerial and satellite photos provided by Oracle. The big brain herself was in charge of this particular mission while Bruce was having to step up to the plate and act the part of Wayne Enterprises CEO. This included traveling for work for once. 

Beside him was Damian, Bruce’s only blood son from an ill-advised affair nearly sixteen years ago. It was hard to believe that the kid was the son of Batman and a daughter of Ra’s al Ghul. Despite his pedigree, he had no interest in taking over his father’s night job, but he still found the planning sessions fascinating to watch. Damian was a bleeding heart for anything on four legs and fully planned to become a veterinarian when he grew up. 

The thought still amused Jason immensely. What a massive _fuck you_ that had to be to Ra’s. Seriously, Talia had done them all a favor when she alerted Bruce about the boy’s existence. Damian had been three years old at the time, all big green eyes and crying because he wanted his _shabh._

A ghost didn’t seem like an appropriate toy for a toddler, but when they’d gotten him home, Jason and Dick made it their mission to find stuffed white plushies that fit the bill. None of them were appreciated, meeting their ignominious end by being buried in a toy chest, then later donated during one of WE’s charity drives.

At least they could say they’d tried. 

Babs’s voice drew him back to the present. “As you can see from these photos, the landing and take-off windows are very narrow,” she explained, pointing to the timestamps. “Half an hour at most.” 

Dick pursed his lips. “That doesn’t leave the ground team enough time for a full rescue.”

His wife shook her head. “We’ll have to tap federal authorities as soon as the victims are secure. I don’t trust the local police. This has been going on for far too long.” 

This being a human trafficking ring that Cass came home with evidence of, having rescued one of the victims from her base city of Hong Kong. It was good to have her back, standing side by side with the rest of them. 

She leaned into his arm and Jason shared a brief smile with her.

“So what’s the plan then?” Stephanie asked, catching Barbara’s eye.

“Assuming the weather holds, you, Cass, and Jason are on the ground, breaking into the warehouse and taking out the traffickers. Secure the victims, then one of you will head up to the control tower to keep an ear out for the plane. Dick is transport, which will involve both air and ground support. You might need him on the radio to guide the cargo plane in, but I suspect someone will be up in the tower that’s in on the take. This is an active airstrip, if only during the day.” 

Jason frowned, letting the conversation flow around him as he stared at the pictures. The hanger where the victims were all supposed to be transported to was large, so it would take time to secure the site, which left plenty of time for things to go ass up if the transport plane arrived early. 

Unless… 

“I think another person will be needed on the ground,” Damian stated, his words mirroring Jason’s thoughts. 

“How so?” Babs asked, not dismissing the idea outright just because it came from a kid. 

The teen might still be young compared to the rest of them, but he had a brain and was encouraged to use it. 

“You need a sniper if Jason is acting the part of a tank,” he explained. “Dick could do it.” 

Dick scowled because no, he actually couldn’t, not after spraining his ankle the day before. Damn gophers and the holes they lived in. “I’m transport only, Dami. If I have to move, it won’t be quickly or stealthily.” 

“I got an idea,” Jason chimed in. “And they’re a great shot too.” 

Steph grinned, catching on to what he was about to suggest before anyone else. “Bruce will be furious with you.” 

“The kid’s right though. We need a sniper,” he reasoned. 

Dick clued in next and enlightened the rest of the group. “You want to invite Wraith.” 

Babs sat back in her wheelchair, lips pursed as she thought it over. “That’s not a bad idea,” she finally said. “And Bruce has no say over this mission.” 

Cass placed a hand on Jason’s arm. “Are you talking about _the_ Wraith?” she asked in her quiet voice. 

“He is,” Steph chimed in. “You won’t believe what kind of trouble our Jay’s been getting into since the last time you were here.” 

Across the table, Dick snickered. “And we do mean that literally.” 

“I fucking hate all of you.”

* * *

Tim stared at his work phone, unsure he was reading it right. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten, then opened them again to read the message from Hood. 

_H: Got a mission that we could use your help on and you’re the best sniper in the business. Gimme a call for the deets if you’re interested._

Was he interested? Hell yes. Was it a good idea to work with the Bats? Fuck no, but only because there was no paycheck involved. His services didn’t come cheap and unlike the little justice crusaders on the other side of the country, he didn’t work pro bono unless it was for a damned good cause. 

_W: I don’t express interest unless there’s at least a 100k on the table._

_H: Seriously?_

_W: Yes, seriously. I have bills to pay, gear to maintain, and a team to feed._

_H: And a mechanic to hire._

Tim chuckled at the reminder of how they met last year. It felt like forever ago now.

_W: Right, I should bump it up to 150k then._

_H: Fucker. Gimme a minute._

It was more than a minute, but Tim found he didn’t mind as he paced in front of his living room windows. Outside, the sky was gray and dark from an early winter storm blowing in off the coast. He’d gotten some great pictures earlier and with a little bit of editing, they could be worthy of his printer. 

The phone chimed as a new message arrived.

_H: Okay, I’ve been cleared to offer up to 200k. Now get your ass on the phone._

Tim smirked at the clear frustration in the text. Not his problem. This was business.

Returning to the couch, he sat down and turned on the voice modulator app before dialing the number. His cowl and the voice distorter collar he used in the field were kept in a safe house. 

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Hood said in lieu of an actual greeting. His own voice was modulated too, as always. 

“You’re the one asking me for help. Stroking my ego by saying I’m the best in the business gets you precisely dick.” Over the line, a noise that sounded very much like a laugh was quickly muffled. “Am I on speaker?” he asked. 

“No, but a certain Spoiler is standing right next to me and can’t keep her nose outta my business.” 

Tim remembered hearing the name before. This was Hood’s regular partner when he was out in the field. “If you’re asking for my help, then I assume this is something pretty big. Put me on speaker because I doubt you’re the one in charge, Hood.”

“Eat a dick,” was Hood’s retort, but there was a soft click and a murmur as the speaker changed over to a wider audience.

“I did but look at the trouble it caused me. I think I’ll pass this time.”

* * *

Beside him, Steph fell to her knees trying to suppress her laughter at Wraith’s reply. Cass’s eyes widened while Dick had to actually turn around so Jason couldn’t see his wide grin. Even Damian was snickering. 

Only Babs kept her cool, but it was easy to see that she was amused as hell. “Wraith, this is Oracle,” she said, smiling sharply at Jason as he set his phone on the conference table. “I’m the one in charge of this particular mission. Will that be a problem?”

“If even half of what one of my colleagues says about you is true, then no. There will be no problem at all.” 

“Good. Here’s the situation.” Babs outlined the mission parameters and the plan, pausing periodically to see if Wraith had any questions. He didn’t. Jason knew those would come at the end once the man had absorbed all the details. “The Red Hood believes you’d be an asset to our team. So tell me, why should we invite you to come play?”

Jason glared. This wasn’t supposed to be an interrogation or a fucking sales pitch. 

But to his surprise, Wraith answered without a single ounce of his signature snark. “You need someone up high, someone who can pick off the strays, then take control of the tower before the plane lands. I’ve also got a pilot’s license, so I at least understand the jargon. What kind of plane have they been using for transport?” 

To say that Babs looked pleased was an understatement. “It’s an older HC-130 from what Nightwing has been able to glean from the photos.” 

“That’s a big plane, designed for exactly what it’s been tapped to do. Long range too. That sucker can fly across the Pacific in one haul if it has to.” 

This time, it was Dick nodding in approval. Since his grounding from active duty a few years ago, he’d made it his own personal mission to become familiar with just about every plane and helicopter out there. 

“We already know the destination, as well as the head of this particular snake,” Babs stated. “We’re working our way backwards to gut out the rest.”

“You have no idea how much I approve of that.” There was a long pause. “I can also help with taking out the plane. Knock out the hydraulics, blow out the tires, it’s not going anywhere. Unless this is a water landing?” 

“Land.” 

“Then it won’t be going anywhere.” 

Babs looked around the table to each of them. She might be in charge, but if even one of them was uncomfortable with the idea of working with Wraith, she’d find another way to make this work without him. Steph and Cass both nodded a firm agreement while Dick met Jason’s gaze a moment before he also nodded. 

“Great. You’re hired. So how soon can you get to Idaho?”

* * *

Two days later, Tim found himself perched in a freezing cold warehouse that the Bats were using as a staging area for the mission. He’d arrived early, tucking himself up in the rafters to observe his temporary team before they realized he was there. 

Getting here on time had been an ordeal. The storm he’d enjoyed taking pictures of was moving across the Rockies and while Idaho wasn’t normally a state he associated with having mountains, he was rapidly reassessing that sentiment. Snow, freezing rain, and blustery cold had been his traveling companions—not exactly his ideal, but Cassie and Bart had somehow managed to get him where he needed to be with minimal bitching. 

Well, Cassie bitched. A lot. Mostly at him for taking a job without consulting the rest of them. Her vitriol faded fast when she learned what was at stake.

Human lives.

Tim let out a slow breath, his heavy scarf preventing any of it from being visible in the cold air. It wasn’t often his skills were put toward saving lives instead of taking them—well, he was going to take a few tonight, there was no doubt about that—and he relished the thought of doing something good for once. 

Not that he wanted to become a Bat. Nope. He was still getting paid for this, even if it was less than half of what he normally charged. Call it his good deed for the year. 

The rumble of a garage door opening stirred him from his thoughts. Looked like the others had finally arrived. 

The Bats of Gotham. 

First out of the passenger side of a nondescript box truck that rumbled to a stop was a slight figure dressed all in black, followed by a very familiar figure. The Red Hood, bulkier than usual with his winter gear. Lastly came a more slender figure, wrapped up in black and purple. 

The person in purple and black planted hands on hips and looked around. “Do you think he’s here yet?” 

Surprisingly, her voice was clear and unmodulated.

“Even if he’s not, he will be,” came Hood’s response. “We’re early.” 

From the driver side, another man stepped out of the truck, clearly favoring his left foot as he hobbled around the front of the vehicle. Tim’s foot twinged in sympathy, but he couldn’t help the wide grin growing beneath his scarf. 

The blue stripes on his winter jacket were too well placed to be doing anything other than mirroring the ones that were undoubtedly on the sleeves beneath. Nightwing. It had been years since Tim had last seen him, although the other man hadn’t had a clue he’d even been there. 

Such a shame about his knee. He’d have liked to spar with him just once while he was in his prime. 

Now which one was Black Bat? It wasn’t hard to admit to himself that he was slightly in awe of her. She was a legend in the League, the daughter of two master assassins who defected when she decided she would not kill anymore. Small wonder she ended up with the Bats. 

“Even if we’re early, it doesn’t mean we can slack off. Come on, people. We have work to do,” Nightwing ordered with clear authority and the expectation of being obeyed. No voice modulator there either. Was Hood the only one who used it then? “Hood, Spoiler. Start unloading. Black Bat, scout.” 

Hood and the woman in black and purple made their way to the back of the truck, so that answered Tim’s question. Spoiler was Hood’s partner more often than not, albeit an unseen one. That meant the one in all black was the one Tim really wanted to meet. 

Black Bat.

He settled back in the shadows and waited. 

It didn’t take long. 

The shadowy figure came to a stop a few meters away, walking along the rafter beam like it was a wide city sidewalk. “Wraith,” she pronounced, her low voice unheard by her team below.

“Black Bat,” he replied. 

Up close, Tim could see her face was completely concealed, the mouth of her cowl sealed with what appeared to be sloppy stitching. No doubt that was purposeful, meant to distract in some way. 

“I have been looking forward to meeting you.” 

“Likewise.” 

“Did you really sleep with my brother?” 

The question about knocked Tim from his perch. Where did that come from? “There was no actual sleeping involved.” 

She chuckled. “Spoiler says the two of you are perfect for each other.” 

Tim couldn’t exactly deny that. “Perhaps, but we love other people.” 

Even if there was still something lacking in the sex he and Jason were finally having again. But that wasn’t a conversation he planned to have with anyone except maybe his therapist, if he ever got the guts to set up another appointment. 

“Then why did you do it?” 

“Because we’re idiots.” 

Black Bat chuckled again. “But here you are. Coming to help because my brother called.”

“I’m getting paid for this,” Tim replied defensively. “Besides, he told me that working with other people who shared the same skill sets would be good for me.” 

“It will be.” She held out her hand. “Come. I will introduce you to Nightwing and Spoiler. Be careful around her. She wants to throw a brick at you.” 

* * *

Jason wasn’t entirely surprised to see Wraith follow Cass down from the rafters. The man was bundled up in a heavy winter coat, a dark gray beanie, and a matching scarf over his usual cowl, but he didn’t miss how thin his gloves were by comparison.

“I hope you have heat-packs in your pockets,” he called out, setting his duffle bag on the folding table Dick had set up for their final weapons inspection. 

“Do I look like an idiot?” Wraith replied without missing a beat. 

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Beside him, Steph snickered. “I’d say get a room, but we all know what happened the last time you two got together.”

Jason kicked the side of her boot. “Fuck off, Blondie.” 

“I’m just sayin’…” 

“What happens for the next few hours is strictly business,” Wraith cut in sharply. “Besides, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re _both_ dealing with the repercussions of what we did. Don’t paint me out to be the only bad guy here.” 

“It takes two to tango,” Dick chimed in, hobbling over with the satellite link-up for Oracle. “Now play nice, we’ve got work to do.” 

Cass slipped beside Steph and tapped her arm. “Wraith is here to help,” she said in her quiet voice. “Don’t pick a fight. Besides,” she paused and looked over at the former League assassin who still stood on the periphery of the group. “You won’t win. Not against him.” 

Dick cocked his head slightly. “You know, that’s a spar I’d pay to see. Black Bat and Wraith.” 

No kidding. If Jason had his way, it’ll happen. Sooner rather than later too. 

“I’d lose,” announced Wraith. “It’s been awhile since I had a real partner. But that doesn’t mean I would pass up the opportunity to test my skills against her.” 

From beneath her cowl, it was clear to see that Cass was grinning. “See? _He’s_ not afraid to have his ass kicked.” 

Jason let out a silent breath. At least someone was on his side here. Sort of. 

“You’ve handed all of us our asses before,” Dick commented dryly. “Multiple times. The novelty has worn off.” 

“Wimp.” 

While his siblings bickered, Jason made his way over to Wraith. “Don’t mind them,” he said, extending his hand. “They’re all nosy bastards.” 

“I’ve had to put up with far worse and for less pay,” Wraith replied, accepting the hand with a firm shake. “Although next time we do this, let’s try not to do it with a winter storm warning hanging over our heads.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” It pleased Jason immensely that Wraith was already thinking of the next time. 

Fuck. This was bad. They hadn’t even gotten started and Cass was probably already able to tell just how much he wanted to bang this man. 

Wraith released his hand and took a judicious step back, whether to keep his distance or keep it professional, it was hard to say. Either way, it was a reminder to get his head out his ass and back in the game. They had to get through this mission first before anything else could happen. 

Dick, the asshole, was already suppressing a grin. “Alright then, let’s run through the plan. No mistakes, people.” 

* * *

The box truck slowly backed into the airplane hanger, carefully guided by Dick up in the front. Through the thin walls, Jason could already make out the voices of the traffickers calling out to each other. 

“They know we’re not part of the group,” Steph murmured, crouched beside him with knockout pellets at ready. They needed to keep as many of these fuckers alive as possible for prosecution. “I hope the radio jammer is on.” 

_“It is,”_ Dick said over the comm. _“I flipped the switch as soon I started backing into the hanger.”_

Transport, his ass, Jason huffed to himself. The oldest bird was that and so much more. Gripe as he did about his brother, but there was no one else he’d rather work under out in the field. 

“The moment this door opens, we come out hot,” he warned as the truck slowed even more. 

“There’s a large mass of body heat off to the right,” Wraith said quietly, tapping at the tablet that revealed the location of everyone within range of the infrared camera mounted to the back of the truck. “Our victims are likely contained in some capacity over there.” 

“Then you and I will focus on them,” Cassandra stated. “It’s likely to be the most heavily guarded.”

_“Get ready,”_ Dick warned over the comm. _“Coming to a stop in three…two…ONE.”_

The truck parked with a quiet rumble of the still running engine. Jason was already moving, shoving the heavy rear door up while his sisters and Wraith spilled out in a whirlwind of motion. 

Shots rang out, but the shooters were quickly obscured by Cass’s smoke screen. 

His helmet HUD noted two figures darting off to the right, tagging them as Wraith and Cass. Steph appeared off to the left. 

Jason jumped out of the truck, guns in hand, and crouched low as his infrared picked up on muzzle flashes. Those were his targets. 

Time to get to work.

* * *

It was fast and messy. Blood was everywhere, but none of it belonged to the Bats. Tim had done his best to keep his shots to non-vital areas per the instructions he’d been given. The one dead body on the ground was his shot though, since he could hardly be faulted for shooting someone in the rafters and them falling from thirty feet up. 

He stood on top of one of the metal transport containers, monitoring Hood while he picked the lock. Spoiler stood over the other man’s shoulder, already speaking with some of the people locked inside. 

“You’re safe now,” she was saying. “No one out here is going to hurt you.” 

She had a very pleasant voice, Tim decided. What would he have given to hear a voice like that during his dark days, the ones where he was locked up because of some infraction or failure? The only voice who brought him back to the light belonged to Ra’s, no doubt with the intention to portray himself as some sort of savior. 

Now he had multiple voices to bring him back when he danced along the brink. 

Tim gave himself a mental shake to snap out of it. He was _working_. This was no time to dredge up his past. 

Through the comm, Nightwing spoke. _“Wraith, I think we’re good here. Get over to the control tower. I’m lifting the radio jammer now.”_

“Copy that.” It couldn’t stay on for too long, even with the impending storm providing just cause for any dicey communication signals. 

Marching to the end of the container, Tim climbed halfway down before letting gravity do its thing and jumped the rest of the way. Why take a chance on his recently healed foot if he didn’t have to? 

Hood stood between him and the hanger doors, getting ready to start his interrogation of the scum tied up on the cold floor. If he spared Tim a glance as he passed by, he couldn’t tell. 

Which was exactly as it should be.

Still, as he stepped outside into the cold night, the gusting wind nearly knocking him off his feet, it would be nice if when this was all over, he could collapse into bed beside a warm body. Preferably one who would hold him close and chase all the shadows away. 

That wasn’t in the books, but he could dream, couldn’t he?

* * *

A short time later, Tim stood in the control tower, a silenced .45 pressed into the back of the head of the man running communications for the traffickers tonight. The middle-aged man was soaked in sweat and piss, shivering as they waited for the plane to send them a hail. 

Locked in the small bathroom by the staircase was a teenage boy who’d apparently been the shit-stain’s _payment_ for the night. Tim had arrived too late to stop anything from happening, but he sure as hell made certain it didn’t continue. 

Unfortunately, the kid was just as afraid of him as he was of his captor—which he couldn’t blame him for, not with how he was dressed and the weapons he carried—so the bathroom became the only sanctuary until the all-clear on the ground was given. 

A slow-burning rage heated Tim’s blood. There was no doubt in his mind that the man seated in front of him would die by his hand tonight. He didn’t care what the Bats said about keeping casualties to a minimum. This man wasn’t part of the main group. He’d been bribed to provide a service he got paid for during daylight hours. 

How many times had he sat in this very chair with a piece of merchandise warming his cock? 

Tim forced his grip to relax as the thought brought with it a stream of memories that were best left in the dark. He was not that kid anymore. He had survived, grown, and was making a life of his own. It wasn’t the life his parents had dreamed of for him, but he had fought with every ounce of his being to claim what he had. 

He might not be able to claim his pound of flesh from Ra’s, but this creep… The teenager hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t have to worry about this particular waste of space ever again. 

The comm crackled to life. 

“Just like I said,” Tim warned quietly. “Or I will kill you.” 

He needed the man alive on the off chance there was some unknown passphrase or callsign that passed between the group on the ground and the ones in the air.

_“Tower One, this is Stingray. Do you copy?”_

_“Roger, Stingray,”_ the air traffic controller responded, eyes wide in the faint reflection of the windows surrounding them. _“Everything’s legal.”_

_“In New Jersey,”_ the trafficker’s plane answered. 

Tim rolled his eyes. A quote from _Hamilton,_ really? 

_“Stingray, cleared for ILS approach. Wind 270, 28 knots.”_

_“Roger that.”_

The radio beacon at the end of the runway would guide the plane the rest of the way in. These guys were professionals and would keep radio chatter to a minimum unless absolutely needed. Oracle suspected they often used the cover of storms like this one to move in and out of already remote places unseen. But the risk of that meant they needed someone on the ground to guide the plane in and make any needed course corrections along the way. 

In the chair, the air traffic controller flipped the switch to turn off the mic. “Was that okay?” he asked in a shaky voice. 

“That was just fine,” Tim replied. He didn’t move the gun. “Now tell me, how long have you been doing this?” 

An interrogation wasn’t included in the deal he’d worked out with Oracle, but he’ll toss it in for free. He reached up and tapped his comm, adjusting the channel so that only Nightwing would receive it. 

“About three years.” 

If the man hadn’t already signed his death warrant, these words would have sealed the deal. 

Tim’s jaw clenched. “How are you usually paid?” 

The man’s eyes squeeze shut. “It was money at first, a grand per job. But then—then they offered me a girl one night and…”

And the rest was history. 

The gun muzzle pressed harder against the back of the man’s skull. “Who else around here knows about this little set up?” 

There had to be more people. Oracle was certain of it and while Tim knew Hood was extracting this same information back in the hanger, it didn’t hurt to have a little corroboration. 

“There’s a guy, I don’t know his name, who cleans out the hanger after the others leave. Makes it like they were never there, you know?” 

Yes, Tim did know. A professional cleaner, someone who took care of the mess after the dirty work was done. 

“Describe him to me.” 

The description was pretty basic. Stocky, heavy-set but in a way that spoke of work rather than fat. Middle-aged. “And he’s got a tattoo on his neck, some kind of snake, I think? Saw it once when I passed by and he was still getting his coveralls on.” 

_“That’s_ very _helpful,”_ Nightwing murmured. _“Nice job, Wraith.”_

“What about his vehicle?” Tim asked, pressing on. 

“Just a big white van, nothing special about it.” 

A make and model were too much to hope for, really. This guy was paid to pay attention to machines that flew in the air, not ones that crawled across the ground. 

“I think that’s everything I need then.” Tim paused, waiting to see if Nightwing chimed in with anything. 

“Wait!” the man cried out, undoubtedly sensing his forthcoming demise. “There’s more!” 

“Oh?” 

“This is their last stop,” he all but babbled. “Before the long haul. They’ll top off the fuel tanks here before leaving.” 

Nightwing let out a low whistle. _“Dammit, you know what that means?”_

Oracle’s voice chimed in. The signal must be reestablished with her in Gotham. _“That the plane will be full of other victims.”_

Rage all but consumed Tim, twisting and tugging and threatening to pull him under. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then again to wrest back his control. 

“Anything else?” he asked in a tight voice. 

“No?” the man said in a small voice.

“Good night,” was all the warning Tim gave before he squeezed the trigger. Blood and brains were dashed across the control panel. 

Outside, the first flurries of snow started to swirl around the tower. 

_“Good job, Wraith,”_ said Oracle. _“I could do without the extra dead body though.”_

“There’s a teen with no pants on hiding in the bathroom who would say otherwise.” Tim let the implication of that sink in. 

_“I’ll let it slide this time.”_

The plane came into view then, running dark until it was almost right up on the runway before its lights turned on.

“The bird is in view,” Tim announced. “I’m heading down to the tarmac.” 

_“Copy that,”_ came Nightwing’s response. _“Black Bat, you’re up with Wraith.”_

_“On it.”_

A muffled sob came from the bathroom. Right. He should probably say something. 

“Kid, I’m leaving now, so there’ll be no one else up here but you,” Tim called out, arranging the dead man’s jacket over his nearly headless corpse. The teenager had been through enough, he didn’t need to see this. “Federal authorities will be here soon, and I’ll make sure they know you’re in here.”

For good measure, he wedged a chair under the doorknob to the bathroom. The kid didn’t need to be a murder suspect on top of everything else he was dealing with.

* * *

Tim had lost count of how many times tonight he’d nearly lost his shit. Opening the cargo bay of the old HC-130, he almost did again. Only his professional integrity kept his fury in check. 

He thought he knew, had experienced, the worst that humanity could offer. But this? For fuck’s sake, there were _kids_ locked side by side. 

If he’d been on his own, only the pilots from the gang would be left alive so he could use them to track down the rest of the people involved in this ring. 

Black Bat clasped his shoulder. “You are upset,” she said in her quiet voice. 

“It’s rather hard not to be,” Tim replied, watching as Spoiler spoke with the victims while Hood lurked quietly behind her. Apparently in real life, she was an actual counselor who specialized in working with people who’d been through severe trauma. His opinion of her grew, because what she did took more guts than pulling a trigger. Too bad she hadn’t been around when he needed that kind of help—who was he trying to kid? He still did. 

“It’s more than what’s going on here though,” Black Bat probed. “Did something happen in the control tower?” 

Tim’s lips tightened. That was putting it mildly. “A bad trip down memory lane, but I’ll get over it.” 

“You know you don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

He turned and stared. “Who says I am?” 

“Hood has told us that the one you care for most doesn’t know about what you do. And that you haven’t entirely let your team in on the full details of how you came to be who you are today.” 

“Someone has a big mouth.” 

“Someone has a team and family that supports him when he needs it. And sometimes when he doesn’t.” There was a light chuckle at that last part. 

Tim shook his head. “You’re all nosy bastards.” 

“We were trained by the best.” Black Bat lowered her hand. “If you want to leave now, I won’t think less of you for it, nor will anyone else here. You’re walking on the edge, I can tell.” 

He couldn’t argue with that assessment. Or with her. 

Taking one last glance at Hood, because he really was that pathetic, Tim turned and disappeared into the snowy night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a massive shout-out to Bumpkin and txbookeater. This chapter and this story as a whole would not be what it is without their guidance and beta reading.

“Where is he?” Jason asked, staring down Cass, for all the good that would do him.

“Where is who?”

“Don’t fuck with me. Where’d Wraith go?” He’d noticed the man was missing as soon as Steph finished speaking with the victims who were willing to talk to her.

“I don’t know,” Cass replied. “He needed space. Something about tonight unbalanced him.”

“And you just let him go?” Dick chimed in, looking up from where he was packing the communications receiver. The Feds were on their way, so they needed to get gone and fast.

Cass shrugged. “He was trying to hide it, but…”

But no one could hide anything from her. Jason knew that all too well.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

“I think you should go to him,” Cass said, much to everyone’s surprise.

“What?” Steph asked, looking between the two of them. “You’ve got to be kidding. Hood’s just got back on track with his relationship. Who knows what he and Wraith will do if left alone?”

Jason stiffened. “I resent that.”

“No, you resemble it.”

Dick held up a hand, shushing everyone. “Black Bat, you placed a tracker on Wraith, didn’t you?”

She nodded and Jason hated that there was a little burst of hope in his chest that he still had a chance of finding Wraith tonight. Why this was so important to him, he wasn’t sure, but if Cass said he was unsettled, then being alone was the last thing any of them needed. They were a team, even if Wraith didn’t think so yet.

It was amazing what kind of stories he could spin to make this seem like a plausible excuse to see the other man. Fuck.

Sighing, Dick nodded toward an SUV belonging to one of the traffickers. “Go. But keep your comm in receiving mode. We’re stuck in the area until the storm clears enough for Oracle to send in the Batplane for pick-up. Should be five or six hours, at least.”

“Thanks, ‘Wing.” Jason nodded and walked away, leaving his family behind.

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” Steph called out.

“Me too.” 

* * *

The darkness surrounded him. Loneliness threatened to overwhelm and drag him back down into the abyss. Ironically, it was the cold that allowed Tim to cling to the shreds of his sanity. In all his memories, the bone-numbing chill was never present.

It spoke of the here and now.

He flicked the lighter again and this time, it caught, providing a brief flash of illumination that he used to ignite the tinder in the pot-bellied stove that was giving him so many problems. A cabin without any electricity wasn’t exactly ideal but given the short amount of time Cassie’d had to prepare things for him, he couldn’t complain.

Much.

Still, it had more than enough wood to get him through the storm and there was a generator around the back if he got really desperate. His pick-up wasn’t until morning and he had to use the snowmobile in the adjacent shed to get there.

The real issue was, how would he spend the time? Tired as he was, sleep wasn’t an option. His nightmares were far too close to the surface tonight. The signal on his phone was dicey, so calling Jason was out of the question. He didn’t want to deal with explaining why the call kept dropping.

Tim sighed heavily as the fire licked away at the icy air, entranced by the flames that danced in the grate. He’d have to close the door on the stove soon, but for now, he embraced the light.

A heavy  _ knock _ on the door stirred him from his daze.

“What the fuck?” Tim scrambled to his feet, reaching for his scarf and yanking on his cowl. There was only one person who’d dare come after him.

But how?

The Red Hood stood on the doorstep, bundled heavily against the cold.

Tim glared, not that it would do any good since Hood couldn’t see it. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you,” Hood replied. “You left without saying good-bye.”

“There was a reason for that.”

“I’m sure there is, but for now, you wanna let me inside? I think my nuts are about to take up permanent residence in my groin.”

Tim stepped aside and Hood entered, pausing to kick the snow from his boots before closing the door and locking it behind him. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, taking in the minimal furnishings.

A bed. The stove. A small table with one rickety chair. That was it.

“Black Bat tagged your jacket,” Hood finally offered.

Scowling, Tim marched over to the single bed where his heavy winter coat was draped across the foot of it. Probing fingers quickly found the small tracker buried in the faux fur around the neck.

“Does she want this back?” he snapped, peeved at the violation of his privacy while also understanding why she’d done it.

“No,” Hood replied, leaning against the door like Tim was about to bolt. “You can toss it in the fire for all I care.”

“Because you clearly got what you wanted.” He settled for squeezing the small device between his forefinger and thumb, cracking it in half. The small  _ pop _ gave him little satisfaction.

“This isn’t about what I want,” Hood stated plainly. “Tonight, you were part of my team. I’m doing what I would do for any of my teammates if they left like you did.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “I somehow doubt you fuck them.”

Even with the modulated voice, the tone was exasperated. “I  _ talk _ to them. I don’t let them be alone. Especially when it’s dark.”

“What if I like the dark?”

“It does hide a multitude of sins.” Hood shrugged. “What happened tonight? I’ve seen you in the field many times now and this was the first time where you practically snapped.”

“Let’s just say something happened in the control tower that hit really close to home,” Tim offered. “I thought I’d moved past it, but apparently, I haven’t.”

“Do you wanna talk about it? With me?”

It was on the tip of Tim’s tongue to say no. To reject the offer because he didn’t  _ need _ anyone’s help. He’d made it this far on his own and he could damn well make it further by keeping everything close. He wasn’t the innocent child who didn’t know better anymore.

But it was precisely because of that lost child that Tim found himself sitting heavily on the end of the bed, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t keep hiding from this part of his past anymore. Not if he wanted to move forward and let go.

“It’s not pretty,” he said.

“I didn’t think it would be.” Hood looked around before sliding to the floor, his long legs stretched out before him. The single chair would likely snap under his weight. “Do you need a light on?”

The only illumination came from the fire, the flames already settling into a low, steady burn. It was oddly comforting, being here alone with this man. 

“There’s no power, so this is what we have.” Tim took a deep breath. This was it. He could do it. Of all the people in the world, Hood would not judge him on this.

“I was eleven when my parents died, and everything went to hell.”

* * *

“My dad was an amateur archeologist,” Wraith said, slowly at first, as though he were trying out each word before he spoke. “He traveled a lot while my mom stayed home with me and ran the family company. When I was eight, they decided I was old enough to visit the digs during my school breaks. It was amazing, traveling the world and seeing all these incredible places. Mom loved history as much as Dad and would tell me stories on the plane or during car rides that never seemed to end.

Dad’s last dig was in Turkey, not too far from the border with Iraq. I’m not sure how he got permission for it, but I guess there were some greased hands involved. That was when I met Ra’s for the first time.”

Jason tried not to stiffen as he put together the pieces. Already, he could see where this was heading.

“Dad loved having this rich benefactor who had a way with the locals while Mom wasn’t exactly keen on him. I thought he was creepy and tried to stay close to Mom, who didn’t mind at all. Thinking back, I guess she knew instinctively that he was trouble.” Wraith’s scarf fell enough that Jason could see a sad little smile on his lips.

“He never did anything overt, but he liked to give me little gifts and would quiz me on all kinds of topics. I thought it was just a trivia game…”

“But it wasn’t,” Jason said knowingly.

“No,” Wraith didn’t sound pleased about it either. “And I played right into his hands. All the little games, the quizzes. Hell, I even sparred with Ubu. When Mom started bringing me to Dad’s digs, she had me take karate lessons. Said she wanted me to know how to defend myself in case something happened.”

“Why was he testing you like that?” 

“Ra’s was looking for an heir.” Wraith’s head rose and Jason knew the man’s gaze was steady on him. “It would be another seven years or so before Talia had her affair with Batman.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “So it’s true then. You were Ra’s’s heir.”

“I was.” The laugh that punctuated the statement was bitter, even through the modulator. 

Jason wished he dared sit beside the other man to lend him at least some unspoken comfort as he let the skeletons out of his closet.

Wraith sighed and stared up at the ceiling, clearly lost in his memory as he spoke of what happened next.

“Some business came up that called my dad away from the dig. He convinced my mom to go with him, leaving me in the care of Ra’s. Mom wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t as though they were leaving me utterly alone in the camp.

“That afternoon, there was a horrible sandstorm that came up out of nowhere and lasted for hours. My parents had taken a small single prop plane out of the camp. It was the one Ra’s used.” Wraith paused and Jason could feel the grief from where he sat, still strong even after all these years. “It wasn’t until three days later that we found the crash site. The only bodies in the plane were theirs. We never did find the pilot.”

Wraith’s voice hardened. “To this day, I still believe the crash was intentional. They should have been in the city when the storm hit, not out in the middle of nowhere.”

“If Ra’s was close by, I’m certain it was,” Jason offered, clenching his hands so tight they ached in his gloves.

It already hurt just listening to this, but he knew things were about to grow much worse.

“Ra’s helped with getting my parents’ bodies back to the US for their funeral. He took care of everything, which was great because I was in no condition to do more than nod or shake my head whenever someone spoke to me. I was barely eleven years old and the thought of going into the foster system in Gotham frightened me half to death.”

Jason took note of the slip. He’d had no idea the other man was originally from Gotham. Their shared city had a way of twisting those that were born there. Not to say that people were incapable of kindness, but it was a place where even the bright lights had a dingy yellow haze surrounding them.

“What happened next?” he prodded, desperate to find out while wanting to make sure Wraith didn’t change his mind about sharing all of this.

The man stirred from his thoughts and continued. “After the funeral, Ra’s produced what appeared to be a legitimate and updated version of my parents’ will, leaving me in his custody.” This time, it was Wraith’s bare fingers that clenched tight over his knees. “I knew it wasn’t right, but I was just so damn tired all the time. Grieving, was what Ra’s told everyone, but now that I think back on it, I might have been drugged, at least a little, to keep me compliant. And so, with very little fanfare, I was whisked away overseas. I didn’t step foot in my home country again for almost thirteen years.”

Holy shit. That was… Jason let out a low whistle because the alternative wasn’t quite so nice. “Damn.”

Wraith nodded. “Yeah. It was okay at first. I didn’t really understand or know where I was, but I’d spend half my day with Ubu, sparring and learning how to use various weapons while the other half of the day, I’d be taking lessons from private tutors. I fell into a routine and honestly didn’t see much of Ra’s for about a year. But then he came to weapons training one morning and sparred with me himself. He said he was pleased, that I’d learned my lessons well.

And then I made the mistake of asking when I’d be able to go home.”

At this, Wraith rose to kneel before the stove, poking at the fire with a tong before adding another stick of wood to the flames. He made no move to return to the bed, so Jason scooted across the floor to join him, sitting with his back against the side of the bed in silent support.

“That night, I learned the true lesson of pain,” Wraith finally spoke. “My days continued much as they had before. Martial lessons in the morning and academics in the afternoon. I’d be allowed a few hours to rest before I was led to Ra’s’s chambers where I’d spend my nights doing whatever he wanted. This went on for five years, although near the end of that, I spent less time warming that fucker’s cock and more time learning about the inner workings of the League. I knew what he wanted from me and I believed that if I gave it to him, if I became his perfect little heir, then I would ultimately win in the end. I would earn my freedom with him on the end of my sword.” His lips twisted again, and their eyes met. “Of course, it didn’t end up that way at all.”

“Damian.”

Wraith’s head bobbed in agreement. “Damian.”

They sat in silence for a time. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, but it was weighted as though it too knew there was still more to come. As they sat there, Jason became absolutely certain of one particular fact. Ra’s needed to die. Painfully, and slowly, with his limbs torn apart, burned, and his ashes scattered across the face of the planet so there wasn’t a single chance of his ass coming back to hurt anyone ever again.

“I was almost nineteen when Talia arrived with her son,” Wraith eventually said. “The argument she and Ra’s had about him, and me, was epic. I still don’t understand why she came to her father instead of Batman after Damian was born, but in the end, it worked out well for me.” He cast a questioning look at Jason, who shrugged.

“Not a clue. None of us even knew he’d crossed paths with her again. Not until we heard there was a baby.” Then it had been all-hands on deck. Talia’s message rather strongly implied the boy was in danger, so Bruce hadn’t wasted time in putting his team together. The argument between Dick and Bruce during the flight had been one for the record books and nearly drove the final wedge between the two of them, finishing what Jason’s death a few years before had started.

No more child soldiers, even if Jason hadn’t started down that path until after he came out of the Pit. Damian was a chance to start fresh, to raise a child who wasn’t driven by thoughts of revenge or justice.

“I became Damian’s bodyguard,” Wraith continued. “I was with him day and night, more so than even his own nanny, unless Ra’s took me out on assignment. He knew better than to—"

“You were his  _ shabh _ ,” Jason interrupted as a long ago memory returned. “When we took him from the stronghold, he cried for his  _ shabh _ for fucking months _. _ We had no idea what he was talking about. But it was you,” he finished with a note of wonder.

Wraith nodded. “I’ve been wanting to ask how he’s doing, but there never seemed to be an appropriate time.”

Jason took hold of Wraith’s hand and grasped it firmly. “He’s doing really well. He knows about all of this,” he gestured to the hood he still wore, “but he isn’t a part of it. Kid wants to be a veterinarian. Fucking loves animals. Especially tigers for some reason.”

A shudder rippled through the other man. “You have no idea how happy that makes me, Hood. No idea.”

“Do you want me to tell him who you are?” Jason asked. “That the Wraith I’ve been chasing for the last year and a half is the specter from his past?”

“I don’t see what harm it’ll do,” Wraith replied. “It’s not like he’ll remember me. And I sincerely doubt we’ll ever meet again.”

Boy, was he in for a surprise if they ever did. Damian had a memory like a steel-trap. Jason determined then and there he would make that meeting happen.

“What, you don’t want to team up with us anymore?” he said instead, squeezing Wraith’s hand again. “We did good work tonight. All of us together.”

“I think I need some time to recover from all the togetherness,” came Wraith’s wry retort. “Your sisters are a lot to handle.”

“Gets even worse when Oracle’s in the mix.”

Wraith huffed a small laugh. “I’d believe that. Anyway, there’s not much more to tell. Talia knew the face I presented to Ra’s was vastly different from the one I wore when I was alone. When she told me the Bats were on their way to retrieve Damian, I recognized the opportunity for what it was. I packed a bag for the kiddo and made sure I had everything I’d need on me for my escape too. The fighting was horrendous, but I don’t need to tell you that.”

Jason shook his head. He remembered.

“I stayed with Damian for as long as I dared. When I saw Nightwing making his way down the corridor, I knew that was it.” This time, Wraith gripped Jason’s hand tightly. “I gave him a hug, told him to be good for his father, and I disappeared down a hidden passage in the nursery.”

“I was hot on ‘Wing’s heels that day,” Jason said, recalling his side of the events. “Found him in a nursery with a crying kid who wouldn’t stop calling  _ shabh _ and trying to run into a wall.” He looked over at Wraith. “That’s where the passage was, wasn’t it?”

“Probably. I could hear him shouting for me, but I didn’t stop running.” Wraith sighed, and Jason knew if he wasn’t wearing the modulator, he’d sound more tired and just all-around old at the same time. “I escaped. For the first time in over a decade, I was  _ free. _ ”

“Bet that was a good feeling.”

“It was utterly incredible. I had no idea where the fuck I was, but it didn’t matter. I had escaped and the League of Assassins was left crippled by Batman’s attack. I was sorry to hear that Talia died. She never treated me wrong during the time I knew her.”

“Ra’s killed her,” Jason said, thinking back to the scene he and Dick had found in the throne room. “She and Batman had battled Ra’s and she took a sword in the chest that was meant for B. We brought her body with us when we left. Her last words were that she wanted to be cremated, which we didn’t think would happen if we left her there.”

“Good. To be honest, that’s what I want done too, when the time comes.” Wraith rolled his shoulders, but didn’t remove his hand from Jason’s. “I wandered around Asia Minor and the Middle East for a time, making my way west. It was in Istanbul that I met the man who would eventually become my best friend. He was playing tourist with some friends from college; I saved his ass from a mugging and he bought me lunch. It was so strange to be speaking English again. I’d been reading it for years, but Ra’s never spoke it unless there were guests and didn’t allow me to either.

Anyhow, I was amazed and slightly enthralled with my new friend. I think I fell in love for the first time with him too when he learned part of my story. He insisted on taking me to the US Embassy to try and get me legal passage home.”

“That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, but dental records and fingerprints helped quite a bit. As did the fact that I remembered the name of my mom’s old attorney, who happened to still be practicing law.” Wraith shook his head and chuckled. “It took him three days to get to Istanbul, but when he saw me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man cry so hard. He was the one I was supposed to go to, if something happened to my parents. I learned that he’d proven the will Ra’s had presented to the courts was a fake, but at that point, it was too late. I was gone and no one knew where I was.”

“But you have someone,” Jason said, warming at the thought that Wraith wasn’t entirely alone in this world. “You have someone who didn’t stop missing you.”

Wraith nodded. “Yeah. He’s a great guy and his wife is simply amazing. I love them both. When I made it back to the US, I spent a good six months living with them as we tried to reacclimate me. But that didn’t go very well. The first therapist I tried telling my story to said I needed more help than she was capable of providing and referred me to someone else who said the same thing, despite supposedly being an expert in the field. After that, my mom’s friend tried to get me in contact with someone who worked with combat veterans who suffered from PTSD, but I was just tired of it all.

That’s when I got a call from my friend to have me meet him in California with some other friends of his to discuss a job opportunity. The change of scenery did me good and he didn’t—still doesn’t—judge me for who I am and everything that’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Jason raised their joined hands and pressed his lips to the back of Wraith’s knuckles. “Everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t be the incredible person you are now. Besides, you can’t change the past. Just gotta roll with it and look to the future.”

“You sound like a bad self-help guide.”

“Let’s just say I’ve an idea of what it’s like to have your life flip upside down, as well as be given a new lease on it.” Jason rubbed the warm skin briefly, but lowered it to remove the temptation. “When I died, Batman dropped me in a Lazarus Pit. When I came out, I wasn’t exactly the same as the kid who went in, if you know what I mean.”

There was no way Wraith didn’t know what a Lazarus Pit was. Not a chance.

“I do. I’ve been in one.” Wraith tangled their fingers together. The simple action was grounding, not only for Jason who was starting to see green around the edges, but likely for him too. “It changes the way you think, so slowly and insidiously so that you don’t even realize it’s happening.”

Jason shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. Here was someone who knew  _ exactly _ what he’d been through, and was still dealing with almost two decades later. “Do you ever get so angry that you see green?” he asked.

“I used to, but it hasn’t happened in a while. You were dead? That means you were fully submerged.”

“Yeah.” This wasn’t something he wanted to think about, let alone discuss right now. 

“My head stayed above the water the entire time. Ra’s was always particular about my face and never liked to see it bruised.”

Jesus Christ, that was unexpected. “You mean he dropped you in for cosmetic purposes?”

“Yep. You know how vain he is.”

“Fuck.” 

“That about sums it up.” They shared a chuckle over that, then Wraith yawned wide. “You know, you were right to come here.”

Jason arched a brow. “Oh?”

“I feel a fuckton better.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me awhile longer. That wind has really picked up.” It’d been howling around them, making itself known in a variety of ways that he’d only distantly been aware of, engrossed as he was in Wraith’s story.

“And here I was looking forward to taking this cowl off.”

“You still can.” Jason shrugged. “I’ll sleep on the floor and—”

Wraith shook his head and laughed quietly. “You damned martyr. I think we’ll both fit on the bed if we’re careful. Let me just stoke the fire, then close the grate. There won’t be much light, and, for some bizarre reason, I trust you not to peek,” he finished with a wry expression.

“Likewise, but are you sure that’s a good idea? I foresee a massive case of blue-balls in our near future.” Or at least his. With their height difference, Jason would be the big spoon pressed against Wraith’s all too tempting ass.

“No, but after sitting through all that, you deserve to sleep on something more comfortable than the floor.”

Damn. Still, he had to try. “I’ve slept on worse.”

“So have I. Now shut up and get ready for bed. I’m exhausted and don’t want to argue.”

After the story he’d just revealed, Jason couldn’t find the strength to deny him further. “Fine.”

* * *

Truth be told, Tim really just wanted to be held. He craved Jason’s strong arms right now and the sensation of being  _ safe _ . Hood was the next best thing and after a little judicious wriggling, they settled onto their sides with Tim’s back pressed against Hood’s chest, a heavy arm draped over his hip while the other fought with the single flat pillow.

“You beat it into submission?” he teased.

Hood grunted. “I think it won.” His voice was deep, a low rumble that stirred things inside that Tim really shouldn’t be thinking about right now. He’d removed his helmet and while it was tempting to sneak a peek while there was still some faint light from the grated stove, he wasn’t about to betray the trust that had been placed in him.

Tim relaxed against the solid warmth, feeling more safe and secure than he had when he first entered the cabin. The heavy weight he’d been dragging around for so long was gone, leaving behind a sense of calm and a newfound purpose. 

“Can’t win them all.” Tim burrowed into the blankets and kicked at Hood’s foot when it quested too close to the narrow side of the bed he had claimed. “This should be fun,” he said, yawning. “I tend to sprawl.”

“You’re not the first person I’ve slept with who does.”

Tim stored that away for analysis later. For now, he let sleep claim him.

* * *

A quiet  _ ping _ from the comm woke Jason a few hours later. He stirred, his internal clock telling him it had been far too short a time to be asleep, and reached up to tap the comm he’d left in his ear.

“What?” he rumbled.

_ “Here’s your thirty-minute wake-up call,” _ Dick said over the connection.  _ “The Batplane is incoming. I assume you’re snowed in? We are.” _ __

Jason had no sense of up or down, so completely ensconced was he in the dark cabin. The fire in the stove had burned down, leaving behind a residual warmth that was all too cozy. In his arms, Wraith stirred. He’d shifted in the night, head tucked under his chin and face pressed into his chest.

“Probably,” he offered after a moment. “Been asleep for a while.”

_ “Just sleeping?” _ Dick teased.

“Remind me to dropkick your ass off the nearest roof when we get home.”

The fucker just laughed. He knew a hollow threat when he heard one.  _ “We’ll swing around to pick you up when we’re all loaded. Shouldn’t be too long. Forty-five minutes, tops.” _

“Noted. Now fuck off.”

Dick laughed again and Jason set the comm back into receiving mode only.

In his arms, Wraith shifted, no doubt having woken up the moment he opened his mouth. “Time to go?” he murmured.

“Got thirty minutes or so.”

“Good.” Wraith punctuated his statement with a kiss, his lips fumbling for only a moment before finding Jason’s own.

It was soft and unrushed, as though they had all the time in the world. Jason grasped Wraith’s narrow hips before rolling so that the shorter man sprawled across his body. He’d done it without thinking, rather like how he did with Tim when he kissed him like that.

Like he was the most precious and perfect person in the world.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wraith said, pressing his chin into Jason’s chest. “I started it.”

“But I didn’t stop you.”

“No, you didn’t.” The man sighed, then continued. “And I think that’s rather telling, isn’t it?”

Jason let out a breath of his own and nodded, even if no one could see it. “Yeah. It is.”

He was fucked, there was no mistake about it.

“I want you, Hood,” Wraith stated with a sense of finality in his voice. “I want you in the same way I want my boyfriend. I love him and I think I’m falling in love with you.”

It would take a much stronger man than Jason to deny the truth in those words. The unpleasant truth that stared him right in the face. “Same.” His breath caught in his throat before he continued. “Fuck, if only we’d met a couple of years ago. We’d be having an entirely different conversation right now.”

Wraith huffed a small laugh. “Probably. And with far less clothing involved.”

Jason chuckled because, yeah, that was true. “We’ve definitely screwed up the snowed-in-romance trope.”

“Not to mention the single bed.”

They shared a laugh and Jason wrapped his arms loosely around Wraith.

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” he asked, sobering.

“I think so,” Wraith replied. “It’s just going to get harder each time we meet.”

The pain in Jason’s chest wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it still hurt. “I wish I could lie and say it won’t, but…”

“Yeah.” Wraith’s lips brushed Jason’s once more. “Thank you, Hood. For everything. Last night was… I can’t thank you enough for that. I’ve felt so lost for such a long time _ — _ it felt really good to finally reach the end of that tunnel.”

“What are you going to do next?” There had to be something. Wraith wouldn’t cut ties like this otherwise.

“I’m going home. Get some shit in order. And then I think I’ll propose to my boyfriend.”

Jason’s breath caught. “Does that mean…?”

“That I’m hanging up my rifle? Yeah. I never asked for this life and I kept doing it because I felt, for the longest time, that it was the only thing I was really good at. But I was only punishing myself for something that was never my fault in the first place.” Wraith’s voice was low and matter of fact. “I realize that now. A civilian life might be boring, but it’ll be  _ my  _ choice. And with my partner around on a more permanent basis, I doubt he’ll let me stew for very long.”

“Good for you.” Jason tugged the man closer into an awkward hug. “I wish I could do the same. I just…can’t. Not yet.”

“But you want to.”

“Yeah. I do.” For Tim’s sake, he’d have to. The chasm between them would only grow if he kept up with his current lifestyle, which was the last thing he wanted. He had a choice to make _ — _ Tim or the Red Hood. He couldn’t have both.

Wraith shifted against his chest and a moment later, warm lips captured Jason’s again, this time a little harder and more insistent. “That’s for luck.”

Tears pricked the corners of Jason’s eyes. He wanted so badly what Wraith was about to claim for himself. Perhaps now  _ was _ the time. Without this man, fieldwork didn’t seem all that exciting anymore.

Before he could overthink it, Jason surged upward, catching Wraith by surprise if his startled gasp was anything to go by, chasing after that mouth and its razor-sharp tongue.

Wraith gasped under the onslaught, but didn’t reject him outright, his own fingers tangling into Jason’s hair and holding on tight. “Are you sure about this?” he asked when Jason paused for a breath. “The last time…”

“The last time we were idiots. This time… Our eyes are wide open.”

“We got twenty minutes then. Better make it count.”

* * *

Tim had a feeling the ache in his ass would linger for a couple of days, every twinge reminding him of just how hard and desperately Hood fucked him. Was it a stupid thing to do? Yes. Did he care? No.

Not this time.

Beside him, Hood finished pulling on his boots. His ride was almost here, and he needed to get up on the roof while Tim still had a few hours before his exit plan went into effect. He fully intended to stoke the fire and curl up under the covers until he had to brave the cold again. Idly, he reached up and rubbed his bare throat. There would undoubtedly be a mark there after Hood’s attentions.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, remembering the last time they’d fucked and the other man’s reaction after.

“I am,” Hood replied after a moment. “I went into this knowing exactly what I was doing. I don’t regret it.”

“Good.” Tim traced a hand up Hood’s back.

“You? I kinda came on strong…”

“If I didn’t want it, I would have told you.”

Hood sighed and twisted around to take Tim’s wandering hand. “Wraith, do me a solid and don’t ever get rid of my number. If you need me, even if it’s just to listen, call.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of what we just did.”

“I know, but… It makes me feel better knowing the offer is out there.”

“That’s fair enough.” And an utterly legitimate reason, Tim couldn’t deny that. He squeezed those strong fingers. “I won’t delete your number.”

Outside, the wind shifted, and the low  _ thrum _ of an engine could be heard.

“I guess that’s it.”

“I guess it is.”

Tim smiled and released Hood’s hand. “I never did get that motorcycle.”

Hood chuckled as he stood up. “Let me know when you make an honest man out of yourself and I’ll send you one as a wedding present.”

* * *

Hours later, Jason dropped his duffle bag on the floor of his apartment, Antigone weaving in and out of his ankles trying to trip him. It had been a long flight home, followed by a debriefing where he kept stubbornly silent about what occurred after he left the others. They’d given him enough shit during the flight, he didn’t need it added to the record.

Wraith. He’d miss that man, make no mistake. But he was also inordinately proud of what he was trying to do. Jealous even, because here he was making a move Jason himself was incapable of.

Sighing, he grabbed his cellphone from where he’d left it on the charger in the kitchen, idly unlocking the screen to access his voicemails for the last twenty-four hours.

He could still taste Wraith on his lips, smell him on his skin, hear—

_ “Hey, Jay!”  _ Tim’s voice spoke brightly.  _ “Let me know when you’ve dug yourself out of that work mess. There’s something important I want to talk about. Nothing bad, but I’d rather not discuss it via text. Get some rest. Bye.” _ __

Jason clutched his phone, breath completely knocked out of his chest, as several pieces of a puzzle he’d been trying to solve for a year and a half suddenly fell into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, I wonder what Jason just figured out? :D :D :D


End file.
